


If it isn't hell, it sure looks like it!

by KailynMei



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh the Abridged Series, Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: Bad Jokes, Dubious Consent, Emotional Manipulation, Feefshipping, Heavy Angst, Lack of Communication, M/M, No redemption arc for Melvin, Other Ships Not Mentioned in Tags, Rated For Violence, References to Depression, Unhealthy Relationships, deathshipping (unrequited and unhealthy), everyone break the fourth wall, everyone is a mess, post YGOTAS, post dsod, start dumb but quickly get serious
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-25
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-07-02 11:26:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 40,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15795549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KailynMei/pseuds/KailynMei
Summary: As a villain, Bakura would be quite happy sipping tea and beating the pharaoh and his friends to death with the help of a children's card game. Instead of that, he had to share a house with a foolish Egyptian still in denial about his sexuality, his batshit crazy counterpart who likes, erm, "hugging" people and his not-so-adorable-anymore host."Don’t even get me started, Bakura. You and Marik, you keep stealing my life and…""And so you sided with a notorious murderer for… what, exactly? What did you even expect to achieve, Ryou? Did you really hope that everything would be okay like in a bloody Deathshipping fanfiction?"





	1. Die, kitten, die!

**Author's Note:**

> **TW & some spoilers:** blood, violence, a lot of angst and (failed) rape attempts later in the story because the author needed to exorcise past experiences with stalking, loneliness and depression, and forgot it was supposed to be a fun fic about Ryou and Melvin messing with Bakura and Marik while living a weird yet totally consensual love story. The overall tone gets darker and darker even though the epilogue contains a lot of fluff.  
> Melvin is a **manipulative serial killer** (how surprising...) and doesn't have any empathy at all (how surprising too...) so he doesn't care if he hurts people physically or mentally... As much as I love fics where Yami Marik gets a redemption arc, Melvin isn't Yami Marik, and I'm too pessimistic at the moment to write something like a redemption arc for him. Plus, if Melvin even gets a better person to a potential sequel that I'm still unsure to write, it'll never be to the point of being harmless for people outside of his 'family' (that means he will most likely still kill people outside of his 'family').  
>  The slurs the characters use from time to time (like "psycho") doesn't reflect my opinions. It's just the characters speaking, not me. It doesn't me that I use those words.

_I forgive the ones who hurt me_  
_But I'll not forget your name_  
_All the damage that you've done_  
_I want to see you pay_

[Lacuna Coil - I Forgive (But I Won't Forget Your Name)](https://www.deezer.com/fr/track/108572800)

 

"For Ra’s sake, shut the fuck up you both… It’s too bloody early in the morning…"

Bakura buried his face in the pillow and burrowed himself underneath the covers, hoping that it would be more than enough to block the annoying sounds that had awoken him minutes ago. Of course, it didn’t work, and Bakura rolled on to his back with a huff. He stared at the shadowy ceiling.

Bakura could have ignored easily all the mutters and growls Melvin was making somewhere downstairs, but the soft sobs of his useless host were insufferable.

"I swear, Ryou," he started to mumble drowsily, "if you don’t shut the fuck up, I’ll come to your soul room and strangle you until you pass out."

Bakura waited a moment before conceding that his attempt at diplomacy had failed. The boy just kept crying as if he had lost any sense of self-preservation, which wouldn’t have been surprising after he had spent so much time locked up in his own mind – a necessary evil in Bakura’s opinion since he didn’t want his host to run about too often. Knowing that the situation might have deterred Ryou’s mental health didn’t inspire Bakura any pity, though.

Bakura rubbed his face and his tired eyes with a growl of frustration. How sweet it would be to get rid of his host forever. But he couldn’t. Killing the boy meant killing himself in the process. Ryou’s body couldn’t function without a soul, so harming it was excluded, and Bakura not only had to put up with him but also to give him moments of freedom from time to time.

"Why are you even crying? I’m sure he’s just doing, hm, _things_. Let me sleep. The bed is comfy and warm, can’t you feel it?"

No answer. Maybe Ryou couldn’t feel it, indeed, or maybe he had decided to give him the silent treatment – in spite of the sobs.

Now, Bakura wanted to punch something. No, to _kill_ something. Like the pharaoh, but his majesty the arsehole wasn’t here, not anymore at least, and even if he hadn’t decided to walk away from the living world, killing him wouldn’t have solved Bakura’s problem.

Still half-asleep and slightly groggy, Bakura sat on the edge of the bed and hissed when his feet met the cold floor.

"If you make me check on him for nothing, you won’t be able to see the outside world before long."

Bakura left his bedroom – Ryou’s bedroom Marik would have said – and reluctantly dragged himself towards the source of Ryou’s distress and of his growing annoyance.

As he was standing dozily at the top of the stairs, the thought suddenly occurred to him that Melvin had emerged again despite all his efforts to prevent the psycho from doing so. Panic suddenly washed over him, shaking him out of his sleepy state and making him rush downstairs.

Bakura barged into the half-lighted living room and immediately stopped, his heart drumming hard against his rib cage. A part of himself dared to hope that he was, actually, dreaming, which wouldn’t be the first time, considering the threat Melvin represented to both Marik and him. If he wasn’t, he promised himself to stay calm, no matter what had happened, because slaughtering Melvin would be the end of Marik as well… Assuming that Bakura _could_ kill Melvin, which was, well, not so sure in the light of their previous encounters.

Bakura quickly surveyed the room. When he saw the mess, enlightened by the moonlight’s beam falling across the window and the golden eye of Anubis glowing on Melvin's forehead, he couldn’t do anything else but snap.

"Bloody hell, Melvin! What’ve you done?"

No response from the psycho. Nothing intelligible, at least, because a low chuckle escaped his throat, proving that he had perfectly heard Bakura.

Bakura fisted his hands and clenched his teeth before breaking the distance between him and Marik’s evil alter ego.

Strange. Some months ago, he would have been angry and worried – _no_ , terrified –, not angry and weary. It seemed that he was finally fed up with all these bollocks. The pharaoh was doing well in another dimension when Bakura’s daily life as a – formerly – iconic antagonist kept going crazier and crazier.

The worst was to realise how much he had gotten used to deal with Melvin’s tantrums, which meant that the madman was, indeed, just a part of his life now, and a mere inconvenience on the top of that.

"Melvin, it was Ryou’s favourite kitten! No wonder is crying! Did he come downstairs and see you do this?"

The spike-haired psycho stopped stabbing the cute little cat as if his very own life depended on its obliteration. Then, he slowly put the millennium rod aside, even though his long fingers were still hovering above it.

Somebody who didn’t know Melvin might have thought he had been startled by Bakura’s accusations and that he was already regretting his misdeed. Bakura knew better, though, and didn’t lower his guard in the slightest. He gripped the Millennium ring with his right hand and stiffened, as if ready to fight. Any sign of ‘weakness’ could drive him to end with the rod thrust through his chest, something that almost happened once.

When Melvin finally raised his head, Bakura saw that the bloody homicidal maniac was far from ashamed. His dilated pupils gave a darker shade to his lavender eyes, filled with exhilaration and a sort of disturbing lust. At this point, Bakura wouldn’t be shocked or even surprised if Melvin had grown a boner and came in his pants from the guilty pleasure he might have felt whilst cutting something harmless into pieces.

Bakura bit his lower lip, letting himself being distracted for one instant from the dangerous situation.

It was too bad Melvin didn’t have a boner when he was in his bed. And when Marik was in command. Because Bakura certainly wouldn’t have minded being awoken by some weird noises if it had been the case. He would have even sneaked into Marik’s bedroom, to see if he could give him a brotherly hand. Or perhaps two hands, if Bakura was right about Marik’s girth. In any case, certain things were better-taken care of in couple.

Whatever. This sort of fantasy would never happen in real life, and thiefshipping fanarts and fics Bakura came across on the Internet had started to feel like needless agonies instead of sweet relief before better days. Marik was far too deep into his denial. At this stage, he wasn’t even in a closet anymore but in a bloody wardrobe, bigger on the inside and leading to Narnia. Another thing Bakura was more and more fed up with, day by day, week by week, month by month, year by year…

Melvin let out a chuckle, creepier than the first one, and Bakura immediately focused on him, for the sake of his own life – or Ryou’s, since he was technically already dead. The last time he had been distracted had also been the one when he almost ended up at the hospital, and Melvin had been in one of his _good_ night, one of those where he was gloating over his successes as a villain and a duellist instead of boring his eyes into Bakura’s as if he was pondering the method he would use to cute the demon into tiny pieces.

"Yesss, it was Ryou’s favourite kitten, and I’m glad he’s crying," Melvin purred, a wide smile spreading over his face.

While Bakura liked to fuck with people too – metaphorically and figuratively, on top of that –, he knew that the crime wouldn’t go unpunished… and that the consequences would be quite unpleasant for him and Marik.

"Smart move, psycho. Now Ryou’s going to be impossible for the rest of the week because of _you_."

And it meant that the boy would fight endlessly for control until Bakura would just give up. After this petty victory over the spirit, Ryou would spend the next days curled up on the sofa, watching some stupid horror movies about some even more stupid people being butchered by monsters, masked serial killers or possibly both. He would eat a lot of disgusting ice–cream. And cookies. And chocolate. And some pastries with cream and cream and more cream like a huge _bukkake_ orgy, only sugar-based. And Ryou would sadly stare at Marik, big doe eyes filled with tears until the dumb Egyptian would feel obliged to buy him some fluffy stuff like the kitten and pat him on his head as if Ryou were the cutest thing _ever_. Marik could even be coerced into saying nice things about Ryou’s hairs, Ryou’s skin, Ryou’s eyes… Until the boy would feel satisfied and agreed to let Bakura be in control again without much ado. And Marik would be all "oh, it’s you, fluffy. Can you go get some groceries? We’re out of candies again.".

To Bakura’s great relief, they weren’t in a bloody disgusting angstshipping fic even though it started to look like it. Nonetheless, he didn’t like Ryou’s talent for manipulating Marik, although he wasn’t sure that his landlord was aware of being able to do it… Anyway, every time Ryou took advantage of Marik, it felt wrong, as the former villain shouldn’t have been played like this by a British boy whose life – when he was authorised to be in control of his own body, of course – consisted of snuggling down on a sofa and complaining about his lack of screen time or whichever event had upset him.

Suddenly, Melvin resumed his stabbing with more rage than before. The lack of blood didn’t make the scene less disturbing, mostly because Bakura could picture himself in lieu of the kitten. At the same time, he couldn’t deny the overwhelming sexual attraction he felt seeing how Melvin’s muscles were tensed under his black tank top. They were also Marik’s muscles, and Bakura would have loved to feel Marik’s arms tighten around him as he would fuck Bakura. Or perhaps Bakura would ride him, hands resting on Marik’s chest for leverage as Bakura would bounce up and down Marik’s cock.

"This little limey bitch likes cuddling him every time he’s awake. Damn, I’m _so_ jealous!"

"Yeah, me too… Wait, what?"

Bakura frowned in worry. And sighed when he realised he had nothing to fear.

Melvin was talking about the kitten, not Marik. Obviously. Ryou like to cuddle the kitten, only the kitten. Well, Bakura hoped so. Otherwise, he would consider getting rid of everyone in the house – not by killing them, of course, just by… ugh… what was he even thinking? He was stuck with them forever… which wouldn’t have been a problem if Marik hadn’t had been so bloody-minded.

Possessing Ryou after his last defeat without getting noticed by the pharaoh and his friends had been hard enough. Protecting Marik from himself and Melvin in a daily basis was hard enough. Bakura deserved better than pining hopelessly for Marik. He deserved…

Fuck, what if Ryou had so much power on Marik because the Egyptian felt an intense longing for him?

"Now, Ryou will think about me every fucking second."

Melvin burst into laughter and tore to shred the "not so fluffy kitten anymore". He even stuffed his mouth with some pieces before spitting them out in disgust. But the strange taste and texture didn’t bother him more than two or three seconds, and a smirk soon crept over his face.

"I’m going to turn his cat into a puddle of blood and entrails. It’ll be glorious, Florence!"

Bakura rolled his eyes.

"Okay, like I care…"

Bakura crossed his arms and turned his nose up, feigning contempt, unwilling to press Melvin with questions in order to see his last doubts fade away. Asking anything would have been admitting his worry about Marik’s and Ryou’s relationship, a piece of information that the psycho could use against him one day.

As if he had heard Bakura’s thoughts, Melvin observed him with narrowed eyes. After some more uncomfortable pointed stares, he stuck his tongue out and licked his teeth playfully.

"You’re upset, Florence. I like that."

"Stop calling me Florence!" Bakura snarled.

"I want to beat you to death even more, now," Melvin mused, a finger on his lips. "But I don’t want to break Ryou’s limbs. Not now. I just want to turn the cat into…"

"Yeah, yeah, a puddle of blood and entrails, or whatever takes your fancy. You don’t know what subtlety is, right?"

"I know what it is. I just _don’t care_. Neither do you."

Bakura raised one eyebrow and took some stuffing out of Melvin’s sunflower–coloured hair. Marik would throw a fit would he wake up with stuffing in his locks. And it was another crisis Bakura preferred to avert.

"Well, all things considered. No. You can’t turn the cat into a puddle of whatever. It’s a plushie, a toy, a stuffed animal, you bloody idiot."

Melvin just blinked at him in surprise, stunned to understand what the cat truly was. Then his face crumpled.

"Oh? That’s why it didn’t bleed and cry for mercy? I was wondering if it was mute or something. You’ve spoiled my bliss, Florence."

"You’re welcome."

Melvin pouted as he was studying the poor toy. But, soon, his big and wicked grin was back.

Bakura shivered a little. It was like watching Hannibal Lecter about to eat some livers with fava beans and Chianti. Zorc would also have been "so jealous" of Melvin’s capacity at being more creepier than him. Too bad Zorc was dead for good, contrary to the pharaoh. Bringing the world to its end now seemed meaningless to Bakura without the epitome of evil and darkness at his sides. The epitome of evil and darkness… and also of utter stupidity, but it was better not to talk about a dead demon god in such words, just in case Zorc would also be able to claw his way back to the living world.

"Hmm… I’m going to buy blood and entrails, and it’ll do the trick. How about that, eh?"

Melvin’s eyes widened, and he firmly planted the sharpened tip of the millennium rod just into the plushie’s forehead.

"Die, kitten, die! Because Ryou will soon be mine!"

Bakura blinked. Twice.

He couldn’t tell what was the most horrendous thought: the bloody lunatic trying to kill a plushie with extreme dedication or the mental image of him infatuated… with… his… host… shagging… his… host. Blimey! It couldn’t really happen, could it? Did Melvin even know what sex was? Bakura wasn’t sure Marik had any prior experiences on the matter, which was a shame, really, because Bakura had always been more than ready to give him plenty to remember. Should he give Melvin ‘the talk’ or, at least, his version of ‘the talk’, which mostly consisted of "don’t touch my host, creep!"?

Bakura suddenly clapped his hands, succeeding at drawing Melvin’s attention to him.

"Since I share this body with Ryou and expect to have all my… _our_ limbs in place every time I take over him–"

"You’re almost always in command," Melvin cut him off, pulling a face. "Let the Limey out. And tell him to stop hiding in his bedroom while you’re at it. I want to _play_ more with him."

Bakura sighed. It was going to be a difficult conversation. Especially considering what meaning had ‘play’ in Melvin’s language. Not that Bakura was starting to panic. Even Ryou knew better than unlocking his bedroom door to Melvin and inviting him to drink a warm cup of tea. At least, Bakura hoped so. No, no, Ryou couldn’t be _that_ naive.

"Could you tell me what is this new obsession of yours with him? ‘cause you tried to murder us, remember?"

"I _effectively_ murdered you," Melvin muttered, _slightly_ pissed off by Bakura dismissive attitude toward his success. "Without Marik’s cowardice, you’d still be in an ashtray–"

"And I wasn’t sad, not even for one minute, about your demise," Bakura said without actually listening. "In fact, I’d be quite content if you'd just stay dead."

"Me too, Florence. Me too. Be dead!" chanted Melvin as if he were putting a curse on Bakura.

"More screen time for me, you see? Don’t care about your fans. Foolish ones who spend an insane amount of time to ship you with anyone else, including themselves. As if you won’t try to slice their pretty faces with sharp knives. I even saw them crying out loud on Facebook because you’re still not in Duel Links after, I don’t know, six months, one year…? Apart from them, who wants you in this game, running around Virtual Domino like a crazy maniac for Battle City’s Cards or I don’t know what gizmo has your preference. I’m a better NPC _and_ PC than you’ll ever be. And, still, this bloody script forces me to tease Ishizu and Odion about your grand return while real players just don’t _care_ . Because they play with _me_ and use my powerful kills. I’m going to hack into KaibaCorp computers very soon and change all my lines to say how daft you are."

Melvin stood up suddenly, all his body tensed, and pointed the millennium rod just down Bakura’s throat, more threatening than ever since the beginning of their _delightful_ discussion.

"Oh, yeah, you’re a _real_ star now, Florence, right? Screen time in the new movie, screen time in the new game. Everyone is like: ‘aw, lil’ Yami Florence is so _cuuute_ when he kills Shadi and the orphan children. Look at his tiny devil horns and his adorable devilish grin! And it’s so much fun to play big baddies with him as a MC in Duel Links. I hope he’ll barge in and fuck me into the mattress!’."

Melvin had started to speak in a high–pitched voice, alike to the one of a Japanese high-school girl, which made Bakura scowled in disdain. It wasn’t his fault he had been so lovable as a child. Well, if Ryou had been… ugh… whatever. They were still loveable as adults.

"Don’t make me laugh," Melvin snorted, using his normal voice again, a voice that sent a shiver of disconcerting excitement down Bakura’s spine. "You never _ever_ won a duel against a _real_ duellist. You never won a single game! If it weren’t for Ryou, I would have loved to slice your pretty face very _very_ much."

Not without caution, Bakura pushed the millennium rode aside and crossed his arms again. He let the sarcastic comments about his duellist talents slide. Since Melvin had vaporised him with Mega–Ultra Asshole once, arguing about that would be like skating on thin ice.

"So, what about Ryou?"

It was enough to deflate Melvin, who scratched his head, a confused expression crossing his face.

"Hmmm… I’m not sure."

He pursed his lips thoughtfully.

"I think it’s because of Marik."

Bakura did his best to appear unfazed.

"You can’t be serious…" he scoffed.

"Of course I am. He’s such a repressed."

Melvin grunted and grabbed his spiky hair as if he wanted to pull them out. Despite being _deeply_ concerned about what the psycho had said, Bakura couldn’t help but finding his little nervous breakdown fun to watch.

"You know how he created me, Florence. I’m his darker side. Since his childhood, he has fed me with his hatred and pain, along with desires he has wanted to conceal from everyone. And every time he pretends I am the gay one, like some mantra, he’s _just_ doing _that_. Repressing feelings and thoughts. And now I can’t stop thinking about your limey host, to the point where I don’t even know if I still want to bury him in the back garden or hug him, and pet him, and kiss him without even killing him. What the fuck, for Ra’s sake? That’s fucking pissed me!"

Bakura almost gasped. And suddenly grasped Melvin by his collar, eyes wide and twitching.

"What the bloody blooming hell, Melvin? What does that bloody mean? Does Marik is… in _love_ with… that… bloody wanker?!"

Melvin pushed him away and growled, showing his teeth.

"Of course he is! Ryou is the cutest one of your duos. Almost like a young virgin girl if you don’t mind his cock… Hey, Florence? Are you passing out or what? Tell me you’re passing out because I would love to see that. It would be as fun as burning you with Mega-Ultra Chicken. A second time."

Indubitably, Bakura was passing out from utter shock. His mind couldn’t process and cope with the cruel possibility that Marik was in love with… Oh, buggery bollocks! For the first time in his entire life, he could feel tears burning in the corner of his eyes. More out of rage than of sadness, but still.

Thankfully, Melvin, giggling, caught Bakura in his arms before he fell. Well, thankfully… or not, since Melvin felt an impulsive and strong urge to carve his pale and tender skin with the Millennium rod. Bakura’s flesh was made for blood painting, and Melvin traced swirling figures with the tip of his fingers over Bakura’s face, daydreaming of all the things he could do to this weak body. Ryou’s body. Not Bakura’s. Ryou’s.

Melvin bit his own lips until a copper taste embraced his tongue. He felt slightly better, more in control.

When the white-haired young man opened his eyelids again, he gave Melvin a happy smile and clung to his neck with his arms, humming. Then, he kissed Melvin’s cheek as if the killer was the most harmless person in the world.

Melvin was taken aback at this display of affection, for he wasn’t used to being treated with such imprudence. People never hugged him on their own free will, and he revelled in the feeling of inspiring terror to other. But as a warmness bubbled in his chest, the realisation suddenly dawned to him that he didn’t mind Ryou’s behaviour, which was weird, since he would have torn Bakura to pieces had he acted like this.

He pondered a bit while – something he rarely did – and reached the conclusion that he loved the fact of being wanted and needed by someone else. Someone who, like Melvin, was denied the right to live freely, as Ryou told him the first time they had met.

Bakura barely let Ryou out, except when he was resting. In those rare moments, their body was so exhausted that Ryou couldn’t do anything meaningful, apart from snuggling down in his bed with a book or manga. After one hour or two, he would begin to nod off, feeling numb, and eventually gave up, not without frustration and annoyance. When Marik was around, Ryou would make his best to obtain the craziest things by guilt tripping him, but it wasn’t even near comforting.

Some weeks ago, Ryou had eventually bumped into someone who wasn’t Marik, someone with whom he had shared some thoughts and started conspiring… After running away at first, like any sane person would have done when encountering Melvin in a dimly lit corridor. It took only one glance to know Melvin was a deadly threat. His entire muscular body screamed: "I’m going to hug you and, then, cut your skin inch by inch".

Nonetheless, Ryou was unafraid at that precise moment. It didn’t even cross his mind that he was embracing Marik’s dark side like an old friend… or something more.

It did cross Melvin’s mind, though, and he leaned over Ryou, smelling his dishevelled hair.

"Yeah, it worked," Ryou shouted, incapable of refraining his delight.

"I don’t see why it wouldn’t have worked," Melvin said, raising his head. "Florence is stupid."

At the thought of how Bakura had been upset to learn that Marik might like Ryou, Melvin slightly pouted, lips pursed. Picking on Bakura was fun, and now he was gone for awhile. Fortunately, Melvin knew a lot of funny things to do, and he didn’t even need the consent of his playthings to most of them.

Inhaling Ryou’s scent again, he wondered if Ryou would like to play with him, but then decided against it… for now. Beyond the nice tickles Ryou’s proximity gave to him, he was also curious to see how far the Limey could go in his quest of revenge against Bakura and Marik. And, who knows? By complying with Ryou’s wishes, he would certainly gain more than what he could take by force. Not that Melvin was ready to bend to Ryou’s will without giving him some worries first. He needed to stay true to his reputation, and a part of himself strangely wanted to give him a fair warning, just in case he was stupid enough to think he could control Melvin…

"If we keep going on like this, we’ll soon be out of plushies," Melvin stated while freeing himself from Ryou’s arms.

Flicking down his eyes, Ryou stayed silent and pensive, until a bright smile conquered his face once again. He raised his eyes to lock them with Melvin and suddenly pinch his cheeks, which didn’t please Melvin this time.

"Don’t worry. I know how to trigger Marik’s guilt, so smile. Do you prefer kittens or puppies, next time?"

Melvin brushed off Ryou’s hands with a menacing growl, making Ryou back away. Good. It would have been bad to lose his temper too soon and waste such a good opportunity.

"You refuse to let him buy the real thing, so it doesn’t matter. Plushies all taste like dry shit," Melvin complained indignantly. "I can’t even fathom why I helped you."

Sensing Melvin’s growing irritation, Ryou fidgeted and nibbled his lower lip.

"Because upsetting Bakura is fun?"

"At this rate, I’ll puke rainbows and flowers," Melvin scoffed. "Should have killed you that night…"

In a deadpan gaze, Melvin tapped the handle of the millennium rod against Ryou's shoulder. The movement was gentle but still threatening. Ryou shivered, pondered about his options and finally put his hand on Melvin’s cheeks before rubbing them gently despite Melvin’s previous reaction. And this time, Melvin didn’t try to shoo him away even though he seemed a bit confused.

"Oh, you’re sad, right?" Ryou asked.

Melvin’s fingers played with the millennium rod’s blade, which incited Ryou to quickly add:

"Because you haven’t killed anything or anyone for a long time!"

Melvin only raised a brow, as if to say that he knew exactly who he could kill.

"And they didn’t even invite you as a villain for the new movie or Duel Links!" Ryou yelled, his cheeks puffed out. "How offensive! You would do a better job in Duel Links than the spirit, for sure. How many duels have you won, again?"

"Are you trying to butter me up, Binky Boy?"

"No…"

Ryou’s voice trailed away, and Melvin wondered if he had gone too far and if he ought to mellow a little. But then Ryou crossed his arms and tapped his foot, his face puckered in annoyance.

"By the way, did you know we have a weird neighbour? I’m pretty sure he’s a stalker. Looking at my ass like some piece of meat. Taking pictures. Creepy. Kill him."

Melvin lowered his head, losing himself in Ryou’s eyes, genuinely mesmerised. The boy looked so candid with his wide, round chocolate eyes and his rosy lips, as he was smiling kindly at him. However, Melvin could see the twisted cracks behind the innocent behaviour, and he liked that, because it meant that the boy was even more fucked up than he had thought him to be.

"You know, Ryou. I think you’re the only real evil mastermind in this house, even though it’s in your _own way_."

Perplexity showed on Ryou’s face for a second. Then he flashed a bright smile at Melvin.

"Am I? Aw, thank you, my beloved murderer."

Melvin felt a smile tug at the corner of his lips. He liked the nickname. It was deeply appropriate.

"It’s a pity they don’t give you enough credit for that. You have even less screen time than me and Bakura. But, at least, you made it to the new movie."

Ryou tilted his head to the right and pouted.

"The movie where my fangirls were still harassing me? Where my friends didn’t even ask me about my future and kept calling me ‘the limey boy’? Where I was a damsel in distress – _again_? Sure, it was fun to do that when Yugi was fighting monsters, Kaiba doing even more egomaniac nonsensical things than before and Atem just popping in for the Deus Ex Machina’s sake. And it was so Prideshipping that I was totally disappointed when they didn’t fuck on the throne at the end. Bakura was disappointed too, but because he was hoping they would do it just in front of all the priests, Akhenaden, and Atem’s father."

Melvin didn’t answer immediately. But when he did, it was with a mischievous grin.

"Maybe they’ve fucked. After their duel to decide who would be riding the other. It’s all about who has the biggest _deck_ , you know. But since it’s a movie about a children cards game, they can’t show that on-screen. Damn censorship."

Melvin leaned forward, purring at Ryou’s ear, his arms reaching out to grab Ryou by his shoulders.

"That’s why people write fics. So many subtexts to develop. So many plot holes to fill. Like: ‘What Ryou became when Melvin burned Bakura? Was he really sent to the Shadow Realm for extended vacations? Because everybody knows it’s just a thing created by 4kids when they didn’t want you to know… _what_ … _really_ … _happens_ … _between_ … _two_ … _people_ …’ Well, guess what? 4kids isn’t here anymore to annoy us."

Melvin’s voice had sounded more and more sultry as he had been speaking. However, Ryou remained oblivious of this fact, since he was too busy at being upset about what Melvin had just said. Frowning, he brushed Melvin’s hand off when he tried to slide the tips of his fingers along Ryou’s arms.

"As a matter of fact, _yes_ , I was in the Shadow Realm, starving to death and running away from tentacle monsters. And nobody cares, not even my so-called friends, because I don’t have big boobs like Mai. Thanks for the memories, Melvin."

Ryou crossed his arms and turned his back on Melvin, ignoring him.

He had been in such a good mood at first, to the point of kissing Melvin on the cheek and calling him his "beloved murderer". _As if!_ Of course, Melvin had had to threaten him like he had done the night they had bumped into each other… for the first time in their life. And of course, Melvin had had to spoil Ryou’s happiness with his sarcastic comments.

As if the jerk didn’t know what had happened during the Battle City tournament. Oh, Ryou wanted to sulk for a while, maybe on the couch. Apparently, he was better at sulking than choosing his allies. Not that Ryou could have been picky for that matter… His friends would lecture him about letting Bakura possess him again and saying nothing about it sooner as if Ryou had had a choice. And _that_ , it was assuming they'd answer his calls, which he highly doubted. After all, they had _so_ many projects, _so_ many things to do. _Without him_. Because he didn’t matter.

If Ryou stopped answering him, maybe Melvin would soon be bored and would leave him alone. Or maybe he would switch places with Marik, because Marik knew how to "handle" Ryou when he was brooding about his shitty life, his shitty friend and his shitty selfish spirit – well, to be honest, it was Ryou who was good at manipulating Marik in order to obtain everything he wanted, but the part about his shitty life was still correct.

"You’re not going to whine like a little bitch, right?" Melvin asked scornfully.

No response.

While staring at Ryou’s back in growing anger, Melvin taped the millennium rod on his palm. At the moment, Ryou had become almost as annoying as Florence, and the whole situation was slowly getting on his nerve. Nothing that a good torture session followed by a murder couldn’t resolve, but… Well, Ryou was funnier alive, at least when he wasn’t acting like a damn _yangire_.

"It’s not like I knew who you were," Melvin mumbled.

Ryou was too upset to listen. He walked across the room, Melvin following with nonchalant steps. Ryou then collapsed on the couch, an arm leaned over his eyelids.

"Marik knew who I was. So you must have known too."

"Well, sorry, I didn’t care at that time," Melvin admitted without any sign of guilt. "And burning the two lovebirds was fun as fuck. You should have seen their faces, Ryou. They even sang some stupid stuff. Florence sang!"

Melvin chuckled.

"Yeah, yeah, burning things is fun as hell, no need to give me a detailed account of it."

"Burning, and annihilating, choking, dismembering, erasing…"

Melvin was almost sure he could find pleasant words for every letter of the alphabet. Except for Z, maybe. He couldn’t find a word starting with a Z. Except… ‘zigouiller’… But it was French, so that didn’t count, and he wasn’t sure he could pronounce it correctly, despite Marik having spent hours staring at books to learn French, Melvin didn’t even know why. Of course, mister main personality was too stupid to retain anything at all and had just thrown the damn books away in anger during one of his Lady Gaga impersonations. However, since this period Melvin could spell French words better than any fucking English words… Especially those about ‘massacrer quelqu’un’. Knowing how to threaten people in every language of the world, before actually killing them, was his new guilty pleasure. _‘Je vais te tuer’_ , ‘ _kisama wo korosu_ ’, ‘ _wo hui sha le ni_ ’, ‘ _voy a matarte_ ’… And so on.

Melvin licked his lips, deep in thoughts, reflecting on his conversation with Ryou in order to catch his interest again.

"About our neighbour…"

"Which one?" mumbled Ryou.

"The one I should kill because he likes to… Wait, there is _another_ pervert?"

Melvin huffed and frowned with a distinct air of annoyance as Ryou sat on the couch, a hand running through his hair.

At first, the boy looked at Melvin dully. He was a bit reluctant to answer his question. Then, as soon as he remembered what they had been spoken of before Melvin had spoiled his mood, a crooked smile spread on his lips. He had talked about the neighbour because he had been unsure about Melvin’s intentions and had felt the need to distract the killer from, well, _himself_. Although, now that he was thinking about it more deeply…

"Oh, _yes_. Many other ones," he whispered while feigning anxiety by biting his fingernails. "I can’t go outside without them lurking at me like… a piece of meat. I’m too cute, you see?"

Ryou jumped to his feet and stood before Melvin, hands joined behind his back. Melvin seemed even more pissed off after Ryou’s statement, although Ryou couldn’t fathom exactly why. Or, in fact, didn’t _want to acknowledge_ why. Hopefully, Melvin surely liked killing people more than… _anything else_.

"And there is something I know for sure," Ryou added in a sugar-coated voice. "Bakura and Marik will lose their shit if something bad happens to them."

Melvin glared at him which such intensity that Ryou gulped, stepped back and fidgeted, worrying he had pushed his luck too far. Talking with Melvin was a constant game of "guess correctly and please me _or_ die".

"Lose their shit, uh?"

Melvin’s eyes fell on the sharpened end of the millennium rod. He pressed the tip of his forefinger on it and brought the bleeding cut to his lips. After sucking and licking the blood, a sickly grin enlightened his face.

"Like I said, you’re a little evil mastermind, Ryou. I like that."

Despite his concerns, Ryou said nothing when Melvin patted him on the head and ruffled his white hair with a sort of off-putting fondness. Ryou even forced a bright smile on his lips as if he was perfectly happy. He needed Melvin on his side, and angering Melvin by refusing his little attentions wouldn’t help. Besides, being stabbed to death by the millennium rod was still a strong possibility, even with their agreement. He didn’t plan to die any time soon, although Bakura was a real pain in the arse for that matter. Bakura was still plotting against the pharaoh, even though he couldn’t do anything against him, not anymore. Everyone was dumb in this universe, even the gods, but not to the point of letting a half-thief half-demon-god-whatever wandering freely in the Egyptian paradise – and Ryou just thought that he should keep for himself the ‘Egyptian paradise’ thing or Marik would want to reinterpret a famous song as soon as he would hear of it.

"I know, Melvin. I know. Now go fetch me some ice cream," he asked, joining his hands in a ‘pretty please’ pose.

Melvin stopped patting him and raised one eyebrow, which incited Ryou to add quickly in a false assurance:

"I have a kitten to mourn, remember? Marik would be suspicious, otherwise."

Melvin still eyed him, his boredom showing, and flipped the millennium rod between his fingers as if the pure gold artefact weighed nothing.

"And you can kill one of our neighbours on your way…?" Ryou suggested, unsure.

Not that Ryou finally felt remorse about letting Melvin murdering people. After years of possession by an evil spirit, he was too mentally damaged for that. He was _far more_ concerned about what could happen to him if the psychopath had been expecting _something else_.

"I want to _torture_ someone," Melvin answered.

He flipped the rod once again but with a yawn this time.

"And you can _torture_ someone on your way?"

"Torture _and_ kill, Ryou. Torture and kill. And… hum…"

Ryou rolled his eyes, suddenly flustered by what looked more and more like teasing.

"Oh, bloody hell, Melvin! Just do whatever you want to do! I will even help you if necessary because it was my idea, remember? As I told you before, Bakura and Marik need to pay for what they did to me. They brainwashed me, stole my screen time, hurt me and sent me to the hospital, let me die once, and also almost starved me to death… I would do anything that could make their life a misery, even kill all our neighbours if I can put the blame on them! Even… I don’t know, _anything_!"

Melvin hummed, seeming contented by his answer. But before walking out, he leaned forward again, almost nose to nose with Ryou, who felt his cheeks burning strangely when Melvin’s warm breath caressed his skin.

"Be careful what you wish for…"

He brushed a quick kiss on Ryou forehead and stepped back, grinning.

"Because you might get more than you really want…"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first chapter of the original story was written in may/june 2017. That's why Yami Marik isn't a part of Duel Links according to Bakura.
> 
> Next chapter: 9 September


	2. How they got away with murder, part 1

Bakura, half-awake and eyelids closed, tried to get rid of the fluffy stuff poking and tickling his cheek.

His first attempts had been lazy, but as his discomfort and irritation grew stronger, he clenched his fist and crushed the annoying object without mercy, hoping in his dreamy state that he had just hit Ryou in the nose. It was all his wanker of a host deserved.

When the bloody whatsit pierced the silence with a shrill honk, Bakura jerked to the side, only to be greeted loudly by more weird fluffy creatures.

"Woof!"

"Tweet!"

"Meow!"s

"Moo!"

"What the…!"

Bakura’s eyes widened when he saw that he was surrounded by piles of dozens and dozens of plush toys of all sizes, colours and forms. Cats, dogs, rabbits, even a whatever eyes white dragon, a black one with big claws and bared teeth, and a bloody Kuriboh, extending his tiny arms like he wanted to be hugged by Melvin… Bakura could barely see the bedding under them, not to mention the bedroom itself, and he had a bloody king-size bed, so it was quite something!

Taking advantage of Bakura’s forced vacation, a cuckoo named Ryou had decided to do a complete makeover, transforming their bedroom into an ocean of silky fake fur and plastic blank eyes looking at Bakura… staring at him… lurking at him.

Bakura shuddered.

It was a new level of creepiness, even for a three-thousand-year-old evil spirit like him. Although Bakura had always been aware of Ryou's weird obsession with cute gizmos, he couldn’t figure out how his landlord could have peacefully slept encircled by these nightmarish furry walls, some of which high enough to reach the ceiling. Not only were these bloody piles impractical for getting out of bed, but they were also towering over Bakura as if they wanted to crush him to death!

Suddenly, he was struck down by an uneasy wave of claustrophobia which made him swallow hard and crumple on the bed.

Strange. He had spent thousands of years in the ring with his not-anymore-BFF Zorc, so he should have been used to narrow space and lack of privacy. Or, perhaps, it was because he was dreadfully used to narrow spaces that he couldn’t, all of a sudden, put up with them anymore, as he came to painfully realise.

"Fuck…!"

With an angry growl, he got a grip on himself and swore he wasn’t afraid of no toys.

"Ryou, explain this!" he hissed.

No answer, of course. And why his pathetic excuse for a host would have bothered to answer him? He had certainly made himself cosy in his soul room and was currently laughing at him while drinking some mentally induced tea. Bakura hoped Ryou would choke on it!

Bakura grumbled as he reflected on what was going on here. He knew that the British boy had long gone crazy, perhaps around the DOMA arc when the show writers – yes, they had had show writers even if it was unbelievable – had preferred Weevil, Rex Raptor, and some pathetic and bland villains to him – in fact, them. However, Ryou wasn’t that crazy, right? He couldn’t possibly have asked Marik to buy that insane quantity of stuffed toys, right? He couldn’t have schemed that just for the sake of pissed Bakura off, right? Besides, the damn things were "honking", "tweeting" and "meowing" every time he flattened one of them without intending to. And he couldn’t possibly move without fucking doing that. How irritating! So, no, nobody, not even Ryou, could have slept there without burning all this shit from utter exasperation after only one night.

As Bakura was desperately trying to crawl out of bed without bumping into one of the menacing piles, he slipped. His hand landed on a pink cow, which protested with a sad "moo". Growling, Bakura grabbed the stuffed toy, squeezed it and launched it for a quick flight across the bedroom.

Unfortunately, his elbow shoved one of the plushie pyramids in the process.

Bakura stared at the pile with horrified eyes. It wobbled dangerously over him, slowly but surely losing its balance.

"Oh, bugger me…"

"Honk honk meow."

The plush toys tumbled down, raining onto Bakura’s back and head in an evil attempt to bury him under their sick sweetness.

They _did_ bury him, and Bakura, gasping for air, couldn’t muzzle his overgrowing panic, even though he would deny later that day having had any sort of panic attack. Atem’s prison guards hospitality was a nice memory compared to _that_.

"Mariiiiiiiiik! Get me out here! _NOW_!"

Bakura heard loud footsteps, and the door was slammed open.

The blond Egyptian walked inside, his bright lavender eyes widened in anxiety.

"Ryou, what’s going on? I’ve told you it wasn’t such a good idea to sleep with so many t–…"

Marik furrowed his brows, his fear subsiding when Bakura surfaced, snarling, cursing and knocking plushies in every direction as if he was fighting Atem’s ka monsters themselves.

"Oh, it’s just _you_ , fluffy."

Marik pursed his lips, looking disappointed. It was more than enough for Bakura to feel stab right through the heart. Marik had obviously been more worried about Ryou than his old partner in crime. And Bakura got even more pissed off and bitter as he recalled his last talk with Melvin, what the bloody murderer had implied about Marik’s desires…

Bakura’s virulent jealousy reached new heights at the thought. He bared his teeth and fixed Marik with a dirty look, even though the Egyptian was barely visible behind the toys piles. Bakura quickly discarded them before resuming his staring.

"You seem _almost_ happy to see me, Marik."

Marik rolled his eyes and slipped a lazy hand into his wet hair.

Wait, _wet_?

As Bakura became suddenly aware of Marik’s sexy sloppiness, his mouth went dry.

Bakura forgot for a moment the stuffed toys and, also, how much he hated Marik for caring more about Ryou than him.

He gaped at the mesmerising sight of the tiny droplets of clear water falling from Marik’s blond locks, sparkling on his bronze skin and dripping from his chin. It was… arousing. Very arousing. He would have loved to lick them, _him_.

Sadly, Marik had already gotten dress. Bakura wouldn’t have minded if he had come in bare-chested or with just a tiny towel around his sexy hips, more water running along his well-defined chest. Maybe Marik would even have sprinkled him with drops at every move. Maybe his towel would have slipped, gifting Bakura with the vision of his thighs and cock. Bakura had always wondered if Marik was as well–endorsed as he was on those fanarts or if he was even more mouthwatering.

"Don’t be grumpy, fluffy," said Marik, oblivious to Bakura’s dreamy gaze, "It’s just Ryou can’t indulge me anymore since you’re back."

Bakura blinked and tried not to overreact. Overreacting was Marik’s thing, not his. He hadn’t overreacted at all when he had thought the plushies had been trying to suffocate him like a whole army of Good Guy Toys. Or when Melvin had told him that Marik might want to fool around with his cute host. Bakura had been perfectly stoic, just as he had been when the pharaoh of the dorks had won their last shadow game and almost send him to hell. No scream, no cry, not even a gasp.

Okay, maybe he had been a little upset. Just a little. Not because of his defeat, though, but because of Ryou. The stupid boy had spent weeks not wearing the new and totally–not–suspicious–at–all–necklace he had received by post from a mysterious fangirl named Furoransu Midunaito. And when Bakura had eventually retaken over Ryou, the pharaoh had been already gone for the Egyptian afterlife.

Seeing the pharaoh’s friends all sad and weepy, and hearing Kaiba grumbling behind clenched teeth that he wasn’t “pleased with the outcome all things considered” had barely been a consolation prize. The only thing that had made him slightly better – apart from reuniting with Marik for the worst – had been hacking into Duel Links and standing in for his AI alter ego, without Seto fucking Kaiba guessing it. But following the script, as a way not to betray himself, was more and more annoying. He wanted to tell the others to bugger off so badly! What would he have given to be able to threat and insult players on PvP like all good internet trolls and sore losers do.

"Fluffy?"

Bakura shook his head, refocusing on the topic and, at the same time, remembering what Marik had just said.

"Indulge… you…?"

"Yes, he treats me to some cupcakes."

Bakura sighed and rubbed the nape of his neck.

"O-kay. Cupcakes. Just cupcakes. Nothing else."

"Yes, just cupcakes. But they’re homemade and with some sort of chocolate icing on the top. Unfortunately, I’ve just finished the last one."

Marik licked his lips at the thought of the delicious pastries, a vision so distracting that Bakura almost decided he didn’t give a shit about Marik’s preference for Ryou.

ALMOST.

Marik should have indulged _Bakura_ by saying how he had missed him, not how he was already mourning Ryou’s cupcakes. Who cares about this wanker? Not Bakura, for sure. As long as his body was fit and healthy, he didn’t give a hoot in hell for him.

"Well, I suppose it’s for the best, fluffy," Marik said, pouting. "All this sugar has begun to ruin my sexy midriff…"

Marik pinched his waist, and Bakura stared at the aforesaid "sexy midriff".

It didn’t seem ruined, not in the slightest, and Bakura would have been more than willing to lick Marik’s abs as a way to ensure him that he was still the sexiest character of this story – apart from, kof kof, Melvin, in a very threatening way. Alas, Marik would scream like an outraged maiden and, perhaps, throw something heavy at him.

"… I don’t have time to work out these days, not when I’m trying to finish _Bloodlines_."

"Yeah, yeah, I feel for you, mate…" Bakura mumbled while ogling him behind his white bang.

He was only half-listening. Marik’s midriff was far too much enticing, and Bakura was too busy with daydreaming about all the dirty things they could do on his six-pack with the help of whip cream and chocolate to pay attention. Oh, he was getting a hard-on just by visualising it. But as some words regarding Ryou reached his ears, he opened his eyes widely, for he wasn’t quite sure he had understood what Marik had just said, even though he was used to Marik’s involuntary innuendo…

"Make out…? What…? Repeat that once again?" he asked, baffled and, maybe, slightly alarmed.

Marik huffed, crossing his arms in annoyance.

"Ryou acts more and more like a friggin’ cryptid. He creeps out of his room at night when you can barely make things out in the dark. I almost had a heart attack yesterday when he suddenly appeared behind me in the bathroom mirror to ask if I wanted more chocolate icing on my cupcakes. The idea of him crawling inside my bedroom past midnight with a whole plate of patisseries gives me goosebumps."

"Goosebumps?"

"This is friggin’ scary!"

Bakura knitted his brows in confusion. Even though he disliked the idea of Ryou getting anywhere near Marik’s bed, he couldn’t see how that behaviour could be perceived as threatening.

"And it’s not the only problem," Marik added with a sigh. "You know I can’t understand him, Bakura. I genuinely try but… He always stares at me with sad or blank eyes, and I don’t know what to do apart from buying everything he asks for—" Marik paused briefly to scratch the back of his head. "—and Ryou gave me quite _a lot of_ weird stares after your disappearance. Sure, the cupcakes are nice, but I feel guiltier than ever, and I didn’t even know _why_. And I’m effin’ broke now! Your leech of a host sucked me dry!"

Marik threw up his hands in frustration.

"Why is he even acting like that? I haven’t tried to brainwash him or put him right in front of an utterly pissed god dragon or anything like that since _years_. I have been nothing but nice to him. So why being so depressed, for Ra’s sake? Why?!"

Bakura drummed his fingers on the bedspreads. Oh, it was so _wrong_ , but it couldn’t resist the temptation of a good old revenge whenever he saw it. After all, Marik was complaining without even caring about Bakura’s problems

"Ryou didn’t talk about what your dark side did, right?"

Marik shrugged, barely concerned.

"Melvin dismembered someone? What an effing surprise, ’kura! I hope it was the pharaoh’s mummy, this time."

"He hasn’t dismembered someone _yet._ He’s dismembered a kitten," Bakura corrected mischievously, knowing how Marik would react disproportionately to the news.

The Egyptian didn’t disappoint him… With a dazed expression, he gasped. Then, he released a deep sigh, as if he was trying to swallow the information without getting hysterical. Of course, he failed.

"Whaaat?! The poor thing! Melvin is insane or what?"

Bakura scoffed, and Marik looked away, pursing his lips angrily.

"It was rhetorical," he claimed.

"Oh, bollocks! You know, I’m not surprised that they didn’t want you in the Kaiba’s gay movie and that they took another bland villain instead…"

"Are you insinuating that I’m stup—"

Bakura cut him short.

"… even though you’re the one, apart from me, who certainly doesn’t want the pharaoh to be back in our world the most… But I’m supposed to be dead for good, including in _Duel Links_ where I’m just that lovable self-aware AI who banters with everyone else and who certainly haven’t be taken over by the true and only Bakura, so…"

"Soooo," Marik interrupted, his lips still pursed together in annoyance, "if I wasn’t in the movie, it’s because I was… hm… too busy. Somewhere else."

Noticing Marik’s shifty eyes, Bakura cocked one eyebrow.

"Doing what? With whom? Where were the Ishtars when Kaiba took the puzzle? When bland villain number two stole _my_ ring? Not that I’m not happy to have it back, finally…"

Bakura let out a satisfied sigh and patted his own chest, which made Marik eye him suspiciously.

"By the way, how did you manage that? You’ve never really explained."

Bakura gave him a cocky smile.

"You know how it is. Everyone's eyes were on the pharaoh or Yugi or Kaiba or the stupid blond puppy, or on the pharaoh and Kaiba at the same time with the hope that they would totally fuck like horny beasts before the end of the story. So, anyway, my landlord was just in the right place at the right moment with his thieving fingers."

"You mean _your_ thieving fingers, right?" asked Marik, rolling his eyes. "You can’t help but steal everything."

Bakura huffed.

"Oh, please. Not everything!"

"I once found my boxers under your pillow!" Marik yelled.

Bakura fought back the blush that threatened to creep up his cheeks.

"I might have been out of underwears that day."

"But you already have plenty of boxers!" Marik snarled, fists on his hips. "You know, the nerdy and unsexy ones."

"Those are Ryou’s, so—"

"But mines weren’t even cleaned! So why would you—"

Bakura cut him short.

"And why don’t _you_ tell me instead how _you_ managed to retrieve the millennium rod?"

Marik mumbled a response, teeth clenched in anger.

They were both aware that Bakura already knew the whole story. However, the spirit was far too happy to divert Marik’s attention from the embarrassing episode of the stolen underwears with another embarrassing episode regarding Marik’s failures at being the villain he had always wanted to be. Besides, Bakura liked rubbing salt in Marik’s wounds, especially when he was acting so selfishly.

"I _haven’_ t heard you."

Bakura flashed a smile at Marik, and Marik glared at him even more.

"Melvin used all the plot-holes he could find and stole the millennium rod from the shrine before I even thought about doing it."

Marik bit his lower lip, sulking.

"Wouldn’t even be surprised if Pegasus also took the eye. It’s a miracle that the other millennium objects weren’t…"

He stopped when he saw the impish grin on Bakura’s face.

"Oh, _come on_ , ‘kura, since _when_?"

"Since _I’m–definitely–a–better–villain–than–you_!"

Bakura roared with a cruel laughter and rolled onto his side, tears of mirth in his eyes until another plushie spoiled his joy by falling on his head with a "tweet tweet". Bakura’s laugh immediately came to a stop, and he straightened, giving Marik a pointed look.

"Okay. Tell me. What is the meaning of this?"

Marik blinked and tilted his head back slightly, scanning his surroundings with curious eyes as if he hadn’t noted anything out of the ordinary, like the huge piles of plushies sitting on the bed.

"This?"

" _This_ ," Bakura said with a raspy voice, his hands clamped around one of the annoying toys to throttle it. "Care to explain why my bedroom suddenly looks like the plushie-sea from little pink princess’s hell? As far as I know, we agreed to _never_ do that My Little Pony crossover."

"And I still think we _should_ have done it, fluffy—" Marik argued. "— if not for the money, at least for the ponies!"

"Marik…" Bakura growled, rubbing his face.

"Right, right. They are Ryou’s."

"I know they are Ryou’s."

Marik, eyes narrowing, put his fists on his hips and lashed out at Bakura.

"So _why_ you even effing asked if you’ve already known that, huge pestering jerk?"

Bakura frowned. Suddenly, he really wanted to punch Marik in his perfect face, break his nose and grin at the sight of the blood ruining his precious clothes. But since violent action would certainly anger Marik even more and let his evil alter ego emerge, he judged wiser to throw the white dragon at his stupid head. Sadly, Kaiba couldn’t see what kind of mistreatment his beloved sex toy was going through. Well, his second beloved sex toy. As far as Bakura knew, the pharaoh was the first one. And, in fact, maybe Joey was the second one, putting the white dragon in the third position. Yeah, he could totally picture Kaiba having kinky sex with both of his rivals at the same t…

"What the effing eff, Bakura?" Marik snapped, hands firmly clenched to his side. "You’ve almost blinded me! You know that my eyes, with all the rest of my body, of course, are my better assets!"

"You bought all this shit, right?"

"Yeah, why not?"

"Seriously, ‘ _why not_ ’? You told me just moments ago that you’re broke now! Don’t you have anything else to say for your defence? You never ever take me out or buy me anything !"

"Are you serious? You’re living here for _free_! And as I already told you, fluff’, Ryou kept staring at me and brooding on…"

Marik’s voice trailed off, and his face darkened straight away.

"Oh my god, Bakura! The poor kitten! I didn’t even know we had a kitten!"

Before Bakura could say anything sarcastic, Marik started pacing the room, head between his hands, fingers pulling at his damp hair.

"Who was in charge of feeding him? Not me, I hope… Don’t tell me I was in charge of him and that he died from starvation because I…"

"No, it’s Mel—"

"Why did you even buy me a kitten, ‘kura?"

"What? No, I nev—"

"Y’know I can’t even take care of myself!"

"As I said, it was…"

Bakura stopped when he met Marik’s distressed eyes. Suddenly, the joke wasn’t as funny as before, and Bakura’s stomach began knotting. Perhaps he shouldn’t have carried the joke that far, knowing how Marik could get emotional. Still, he couldn’t fathom how Marik, even absent-minded as he was, could have already forgotten what they said only minutes ago about the kitten. Not that it was really important compared to Bakura’s problems, though.

"Marik, stay focused, please," he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You’re weak with Ryou. It’s because he’s a girly–girly face?"

Marik’s mouth dropped ajar in a mix of astonishment and disbelief.

"Bakura! What are you implying? You think I’m in love with Ryou? He’s not a girl! I know it’s confusing with his features and his thin body, but don’t fall for it, you have to believe me, he’s not a girl _at all_. And don’t tell me to check whenever he’ll return home because I’m effing sure of that fact and I’ll not grab his effing crotch for further verification."

It was Bakura’s turn to look at Marik in disbelief. Did Marik go even dafter during his disappearance? That would explain a lot, all things considered, but still… Perhaps it was just a weird strategy to avoid any serious discussion about the plush toys, a thought that made Bakura even angrier.

"Yes, he’s not a girl, obviously… because Ryou and I, _we’re sharing the same body, idiot_!"

"And because of that, of course."

Marik seemed to be hurt by Bakura’s sarcasm or, maybe, by his own dumbness at proving, by any means, at the risk of blabbering nonsense, that he wasn’t gay in the slightest. Or bi. Or bi-curious with a weakness for a certain white-haired huge jerk who liked picking on him for no other reason than being evil.

Marik stormed out and quickly went downstairs to hide away in the living room.

After a lot of efforts – which had mostly consisted of shoving the creepy piles around with the help of his fists –, Bakura finally managed to get out of bed.

Once he stood on the floor, he embraced the cheering thought that he would burn in their garden every single plushie as soon as he found a lighter and some gasoline. It would be season 0 all over again, but with him as the pyromaniac devil. Now that he was thinking about it, perhaps he would say "hi" to Yuugi later in the day and burn his cute panda face too since his actions weren’t limited by the censorship anymore. However, his plans would have to wait, as he had more pressing matters to resolve first, mostly Marik’s unbearable weakness for Ryou. That fool had spent their last dollars for toys, which meant they were broke, which meant Bakura would have to steal and sell things or, far less entertaining, resolve to find a proper  _ job _ – knowing Marik, he would be very offended by the sole idea of getting his hands dirty.

Bakura quicked a stuffed bunny with his foot, a petty act that brought a victorious smirk to his face. Then, he proceeded to follow Marik out of the room, but not without a glance at the cheval mirror Ryou had insisted on buying some months ago – well, in fact, Ryou had clung to Marik’s arm like a creepy three-year-old, followed him everywhere and kept whining until the Egyptian said "yes".

As soon as Bakura caught his own reflection in the mirror, his eyes widened in horror. His wanker of a host had put him in pink pyjamas with unicorns patterns! With his dishevelled white hair that seemed as fuzzy as the fur of the toy he had hit just before, he looked so… _cute_!

Outraged in the extreme, Bakura tried to reach Ryou to ask him if he preferred to die by drowning or hanging. Alas, the boy must have foreseen his anger, as the door to his soul room was effectively shut, no matter how hard Bakura tried to pry it open.

Huffing, Bakura made a beeline for the door. Had he been less distracted, perhaps he would have noticed that the wardrobe was open and that his collection of knives missed several pieces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter : 23 september


	3. How they got away with murder, part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Basically, life happened (might lose my job, had several panic attacks two weeks ago and so on, of course, all of that happening when I'm buying a house). Needless to say, I wasn't in the right mood to rewrite this chapter until now.
> 
> Anyway, **TW** , things are getting darker in this chapter and the next ones.

Marik was brooding on the couch, feet on the seat, chin cupped on his palm and lips pursed tight. Needless to say, he didn’t even spare a glance at Bakura when he barged feistily into the living room.

"Are you upset?" Bakura asked in a growl. "Because  _ I _ am."

"Go to hell."

"Already done that more than once. Nothing impressive there.”

Bakura licked his lips and, feeling more mischievous than ever, added on a whim:

"But if you ask  _ nicely _ I would most certainly jerk off for you."

He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, waiting for Marik’s outraged reaction to his comeback. His young housemate stayed silent, though. The only sign he had perhaps heard Bakura was the way he was nibbling nervously his lower lip, seemingly deep in thoughts.

A wry smile tugged at the corner of Bakura’s mouth, for Marik offered him a perfect impression of Ryou’s usual sulky mood in no less than Ryou’s favourite post. It was irresistible, to the point Bakura had a hard time repressing a chuckle. People’s misery had always had a good taste in his tongue, perhaps a remnant of the time when Zorc and he were so closely linked, and he wanted nothing more than savouring it like a good French wine.

However, as the silence deepened and deepened, Bakura came to realise something was off. The young Egyptian was staring blankly into space, not really looking at their old TV that only displayed white and black dots of statics. The flickering light emanating from the screen cast shadows over Marik’s tanned face, creating a fugitive expression that reminded Bakura of the other  _ bastard _ .

A wave of uneasiness washed over Bakura and made goosebumps prickle across his arms. Did he cross a line?

"Marik… are you feeling okay?"

No answer. Marik was as listless and lethargic as a comatose junky. His violet eyes had lost their spark, the spark he still had when he had been busy ignoring Bakura's problems. Bakura didn’t remember ever seeing him displaying such apathy before and it was, well, it was unsettling. He knew it was most likely his fault for pushing the insults a little too far.

Sadly, it wasn’t the first time since they had been reunited that their talks took an ugly turn, and Bakura felt a lump on his throat realising that they didn’t banter anymore as they had been used to - without really thinking any words that were leaving their mouths. They were just mean to each other or, to be honest, Bakura was just mean to Marik because he couldn’t handle the frustration anymore, handle the fact that he was pining hard for someone who would never return his interest. However, being constantly friend zoned was hardly an excuse for being cruel.

Bakura approached… and stopped immediately, a disgusted look distorting his face as he breathed in deeply by his nose.

Something smelled funny. No, not funny. It was putrid, nauseating like the stench of a rotten piece of meat. He hadn’t smelled something that bad since… years. No, centuries, in another life, in another time.

The memories the fetid stench brought back were far from pleasant, and he fidgeted a bit before getting a grip on himself. His mass grave of a hometown didn’t really exist anymore, so it didn’t matter, nothing mattered at all apart from Marik’s strange behaviour. And the smell, of course.

"It stinks, Marik!"

"I know," the young man said, shrugging as if he wasn’t concerned about the problem. "I’ve already taken two showers today, and washed my clothes as well. But I think it’s still not enough."

He smelled a string of his wet hair with a suspicious look before putting it behind his ear and shrugging again.

"Marik, you can’t possibly get rid of it when it’s all the house that stinks like this! You forgot to take the garbage out?"

"No."

"Did you buy meat and remember just before cooking it that you’re a bloody vegetarian?"

"Vegan. Well… Wait a minute…” He frowned. “No. And it was Melvin who bought the meat as a ‘joke’."

His voice trailed off and he puckered his lips at the memory. Bakura had been there too that day, but he had been unable to prevent Melvin from doing the worst, and Marik had suddenly surfaced, his mouth full of rare beef.

"Marik?"

"The smell comes from the basement," the Egyptian added, a deep frown creasing his forehead.

Bakura raised one brow with a mix of annoyance and worry.

"And?"

"Haven’t checked yet."

"Why?"

Marik gulped and squirmed a bit on the couch.

"’Cause it’s effing dark, and the light didn’t effing work anymore, ’kura. And… and… I don’t like dark, y’remember?"

He combed his hair with one hand and smile sheepishly. His eyes seemed once again unfocused, dozy as if he were fighting against some sort of boredom or just feeling very sleepy. Now that Bakura was thinking about it, Marik had been easily distracted too during their previous argument, and if he had thought it was because of Marik’s natural foolishness, now it started to question his previous assumptions.

"Who cares?" Marik mumbled. "The smell is not that bad. I’m sure it’ll be over in a couple of days. Maybe it’s just the poor kitten. I’m going to take another shower. You might want to take a shower as well, fluffy. Want to take a shower with me and scrub my back?"

Bakura hesitated, as the proposition was immensely enticing, to the point he wanted to shout "okay, your wishes are my command, master" and to be preoccupied later. At the same time, Marik’s behaviour was concerning.

Taking a shower with Bakura? Really? With the risk to have Bakura’s hands and mouth all over his sexy, nude body, not only to scrub his back but also to take care of every part of him, especially his dick? And since when Marik was willing to let his oversensitive back being touched?

Yeah, sure, Bakura would have loved to take a shower with him, massage Marik’s scarred back and let things go wild. Marik would certainly forget he wasn’t gay in the slightest when Bakura would fall on his knees and give him a head until Marik couldn’t wait for the main course anymore. However, Bakura had always been the more responsible one of their duos, so he sighed and decided to talk some sense into Marik, despite how much he would have _ loved _ the main course or just having Marik cum in his mouth,  _ fucking finally _ .

"As attractive as your unusual invitation sounds, it’s  _ bad _ ."

The Egyptian leaned against the armrest and tilted his head slightly, resting his chin on the palm of his hand.

"Taking a shower with you, fluff’? Don’t be silly, we’re just best bud’, there’s nothing wrong with…"

"The  _ smell _ , Marik. You’ve become used to it, that’s all."

Marik didn’t respond. He just grabbed his laptop on the coffee table and looked at the screen, his face distant and dull. Had Bakura been paranoid, he would have thought that Melvin had numbed Marik, as Bakura had done for years with Ryou before the boy became tougher and more stubborn. It would explain why the repressed Egyptian didn’t mind, all of a sudden, taking a shower together.

…

Okay, after giving it some thoughts, he  _ was _ getting paranoid. For good reasons.

"Y’know, Ryou even had the nerve to steal my laptop for research," Marik said while browsing the Internet with a bored face.

"Research?" asked Bakura, more and more alarmed.

"Things like: ‘how to hide a body’, ‘body and acid bath’, ‘how to get away with murder’. He also sharpened and cleaned your knives, how sweet of him."

Bakura gulped. Not that he minded about killing people as a way to release stress. But he had the intuition that something fishy was going on.

Ryou usually only think about eating, cuddling and writing long letters to his dead sist… Oh, bugger! He had forgotten that Ryou was more than just a stupid and bland wanker who wasn’t bothered about waking up in strange places and situations as if he had just had a sleepwalking episode. His hobbies also included occult sciences and scary movies! However, since indulging himself with magical shenanigans seems harmless to Bakura, unlike collecting stuffed animals or wearing pink pyjamas, he hadn’t really care… until now.

"Do you think he downloaded procedural dramas?" Marik said while leaning back again against the armrest, his laptop set on his belly. "‘cause it’s illegal in this country. Don’t want my ass in jail with perverts who aren’t you. You’re the only pervert I can stand near my ass, y’know?"

"Erm, thanks for your trust?"

"You’re welcome, fluff."

Bakura’s mouth went dry, and his heart beat faster. Bad smell, cute boy with interest in horror, weird internet searches, Marik sillier than ever, Marik who shared his body with a psycho bastard…

"Marik… I think Ryou wants to kill someone. Or that he has already killed someone."

_ With a little help from Melvin, I guess. _

Bakura couldn’t picture Ryou murdering anyone with his own hands. The boy was more the type to ask politely to someone else to get his hands dirty for him. Oh, it was certainly that. Ryou batting his long eyelashes at Melvin and requesting with pouted lips or a cute smile if he could have a dead body for Christmas,  _ pretty please, and if you’re nice to me, I’ll blow you _ . How could Melvin have resisted the temptation? Especially if a blowjob was part of the deal.

Bakura suddenly turned livid with rage. Did that mean that Ryou had a taste of Marik before him? Bugger him!

"Killed someone…? Ooooh, that would explain a lot," Marik mused. "Baby Ryou has grown as your evil alter ego. Congratulations."

"No need to be sarcastic."

The Egyptian reverted his gaze to the computer's screen and hummed vacantly instead of yelling curses at him.

"Have you seen how your fangirls draw you as a female? With a skirt and boobies? Strange but I prefer you as a male. Hum… However, the skirt might be sexy on you and Ryou. Wait!"

Bakura started in alarm.

"What? Have you  _ finally _ remembered something important?"

"Yes! Um. Are you certain you really share your body with Ryou?"

Bakura growled but couldn’t find words rude enough to express his discontentment. He should have known better… Whatever Ryou or Melvin had done to Marik, it didn’t improve his intelligence.

"Do ya think it’s the same for Melvin and me? It would explain sooo many thiiiings! Like why… why I… Uh, I don’t remember, gimme… a minute…"

Bakura rubbed his temples, too upset at first to pay any attention to the difficulties Marik had to articulate properly.

"Marik, please. Where’s the millennium rod?"

Marik stared at him and,  _ finally _ , his face showed concern.

"I… dunno," he admitted.

His face turned even paler, and he moistened his lips in anxiety. When he spoke again, he stammered.

"Be-before I forget, it’s… it’s not the only-ly thing that has vanished. Ha-haven’t seen our creepy-py neighbour since the day Ryou re-replaced ya. Y’know, the one who likes lur-lurking at yer-your ass. And Ryou’s. Oh, so-sorry, same ass. Male ass."

Marik began to bite his thumb while Bakura processed everything they had said since he had awoken.

"Marik, Ryou likes to treat you, right?"

"Of coooourse, he’s weird but he loves me. In a totally platonic non-gay way, Bakura. Don’t get any funny ideas! Like… wiz Kaiba and Atem… I’m sure zey’re straight, you know? Just BRF, best rival forever. Stop confusing friendship or rivalry wiz… wiz…"

Bakura snorted scornfully. He knew he was right about them, but he would quarrel about it in due course.

"Whatever. Don’t let him treat you anymore. Except if you want to lose your sexiness and become a drooling mess."

Marik blinked with a vague astonishment.

"Ya mean…"

Bakura nodded. Marik, as realisation dawned on him, froze with a distressed expression quite painful to watch, even by Bakura’s standard.

"Ryou’s drugged me? But he’s my friend! My weird, creepy staring, depressed, lackadaisical friend, but still."

"Lackadaisical? Did you learn by rote a bloody thesaurus?" Bakura scoffed.

"Can I use blasé? Eh, fluffy, why do we have French words? Or did ze French steal all our words? Untrustworzy bastards! What zeir friggin’ effin’ problem? Zey’re so meaaaan!"

"Again, Marik, stay focused."

Marik sighed sadly as he collapsed on the couch. He put a hand on his forehead in an overdramatic gesture.

"So, zat’s why I keep getting distracted zese days. Ryou even made me a shopping list."

Bakura rubbed his temples again, grumbling with a mix of weariness and anger.

Marik couldn’t even get mad against Ryou. In fact, he was sinking into his lethargic state, again. Seeing him like that was appalling, since the young Egyptian was usually dumbly enthusiastic, especially when he was devising a vainly elaborate scheme against the pharaoh’s return – just in case Atem would have wanted to return. Marik was sure as hell that the king of dorks would want to use the tomb keepers as slaves, like in good old times, and that his siblings would never dare to say "go bugger yourself with your pyramid, Atem". Well, Bakura was still thinking that the best option to prevent such a tragedy might just be knocking at Yuugi’s shop and stabbing the panda boy right through his heart. Simplicity was efficiency’s good friend and, without a host, not even Kaiba could bring the pharaoh back – or perhaps he could, but you couldn’t fuck a hologram or a robot so it would serve him right. And, while Bakura was thinking about it, the millennium rod hadn’t been forged with a sharpened tip just for Melvin pin-cushioning minor characters, so they should totally use it. Oh,  _ even better _ , they should let Melvin do the dirty job with a bloody chainsaw. For once, he would be helpful, and Bakura would gratefully kiss him… before running for his life. Or not? Who knows, maybe Melvin was – surprisingly – into vanilla sex.

No. No chance at all.

Anyway, even if Marik often got on Bakura’s nerves because of his silly, naive and absurd attitude, Marik was  _ HIS _ silly, naive and absurd Egyptian. Had Bakura been gifted with his own body, like in a bloody fanfiction, he would have tortured without mercy the double-faced wanker who played Marik. But it couldn’t, alas. And Ryou perfectly knew that.

Well, it seemed Bakura was in charge, at least until Marik wasn’t stoned anymore like a singer at Woodstock.

"Where’s the list?"

"I threw it away some dayz ago."

Marik sighed with an unconcerned gesture.

"Ryou said the buying would be helpful when ya’d come back. I remember it: over one thouzand ‘ _ totemo _ - _ kawaii-nee’  _ plushies, an axe, cute pyjamas wiz rabbit ears – haven’t found one. Do ya love yer new unicorn-pattern pyjamas?"

"Of course, Marik, they’re bloody  _ charming _ on me. Go on."

"Hmm… Sedatives. Ya need a prescription fo’ buying them, did ya know zat?"

"Nope, I always steal what I want, remember?"

"Ryou also asked fo’ whipped cream, flour, chocolate, a saw, a chopping butcher knife, bin bags, bleach, and zat insanely expensive KC milk," Marik added while counting on his fingers. "Except ze KC milk, nothing odd, you see?"

"Yeah, nothing odd  _ at all _ ."

"I mean, who in zeir right mind would want to drink a milk produced by a game company, especially by Kaiba’s game company? Why Kaiba has his brand of milk, in ze first place? It doesn’t make any sense and… why is everything darkening, Bakura?"

Bakura raised one eyebrow. Marik blinked, paler than ever and as would be someone on the verge of fainting. A pearl of sweat rolled along his forehead and, then, before Bakura could ask him if he was feeling okay, the young Egyptian passed out, his laptop falling onto the floor.

Maybe remembering the shopping list had been asking too much from his poor silly brain. Space cupcakes didn’t seem to have improved his intellect either. And by space cupcakes… it was only if Ryou had decided to play nice with Marik. Bakura wouldn’t have been surprised if the boy had used even more noxious substances, thanks to his not-odd-at-all-shopping-list. Bugger him! Melvin, psycho champ, had a serious challenger in mindfuckery and deadly threats. Bakura could almost hear the pharaoh deep-dork voice saying something like: "and that’s why you don’t do drugs with your psychopath family, children". For once, Bakura would have agreed with him.

"Oh, Marik, you’d be so dead if I weren’t watching your back. In a totally non–gay way, I swear."

Bakura snorted. Then, he contemplated the young man’s quiet face. A faint snore began to resonate in the room.

It was tempting to just watch Marik sleeping instead of going to the basement to see what Ryou and Melvin had done. But the horrible stench wouldn’t go away all by itself and could alarm their neighbours. Well, their  _ still-alive- _ neighbours. Having the cops barging in, shooting "freeze", didn’t look like a good plan.

"I’ll take care of everything for you, once again. You’d better indulge me for that, Marik. But not with Ryou’s cupcakes, please. A cup of tea and some cuddling on the couch would be nice if it’s not asking too much, bloody gay in denial," he muttered while cautiously placing cushions behind Marik’s head. "You might wish Melvin doesn’t take over and slaughter me during your beauty sleep. Because I’m sure he and Ryou want to begin a new sort of collection. Here you are. Feeling comfy?"

He stared at Marik’s sleeping face and couldn’t – didn’t even try to – fight the sudden urge to lean over and place a kiss at the corner of his chocolate-coloured lips. Then, he quickly stood up straight with a poker face, just in case Marik would wake up. Nothing of the sort happened.

"I might steal more kisses from you, you know…? I mean, how can I resist? I’m a thief, right? For once, you’re not even blabbering nonsense or acting as if I would sully your precious imaginary straightness. Bugger, I should stop talking when you’re not even able to hear me."

But Bakura knew why he was doing this. Whatever Ryou and Melvin had been up to during his forced vacation, he was dreadfully sure he wouldn’t like it. So hearing his own voice was comforting.

He took a torch from one of the kitchen’s drawers and the new chopping butcher knife, just in case drugs wouldn’t affect Melvin. He wouldn’t mind having Marik tailing him, but Melvin coming behind his back in a full-killer mode was definitely not the same thing at all, despite their shared sexy body.

Trying not to sweat and think about the horrible death he might encounter while investigating, Bakura went to the basement door. He scowled in repugnance as soon as he opened it.

The air was even more suffocating there, and he could hear a weak buzzing sound, perhaps flies. He wouldn’t have been surprised if the place were crawling with them, a thought that didn’t prevent a feeling of utter disgust to creep over him.

The torch’s beam enlightened the wood steps. Breathing through his mouth as a way to prevent the smell to suffocate him, Bakura went downstairs, wood cracking and breaking the eerie silence every time he moved forward. It was really hard not to run away, even for an old spirit like him.

As he stood on the last step, the torch’s beam caught a gleam of golden metal. Bakura sighed and slumped his shoulders.

Good news, he had finally found the bloody millennium rod.

Bad news, he had also found a swarm of flies and many rotten human’s limbs. Lucky him.

Ryou and Melvin hadn’t even finished their dirty job since two or three bodies were left untouched. Their skin was slightly less greyish and bloated than the butchered ones, but they weren’t very fresh either.

Bakura should have considered about asking Marik how long he had disappeared, engulfed in the darkness of his own mind, not eager to show himself after what he had learned about Marik’s feelings. Or what he had believed had been the truth at that moment. It was clear that Melvin had played him. For Ryou, no less.

Bakura walked until he reached the decayed cadavers. As he moved his hand to chase the flies, he felt kinda relieved that he hadn’t had time to eat something before his little expedition, for the smell was unbearable. His bare feet encountered dry blood, undefined fluids, shrivelled guts and even white maggots. He didn’t care, or not as much as he cared about the stench, at least.

He tried to count the victims and decided it was a  _ lot _ of carved up bodies and severed heads. Melvin couldn’t have done that in one week, not without Marik noticing anything weird like memory loss, right? Unless the crazy bastard had taken him over during his sleep. One way or another, it was pure madness…

"Ryou, I believe we should have a  _ long _ talk."

Bakura could swear he had just heard his host cackling.

"We’ll see if you’re still in the mood for a laugh when Melvin kills  _ me and you _ ."

Bakura, one fist on his hip, took a pensive look at the mount of deads, fighting back the thoughts that he had also done that in the past, let people rot, that he had also seen that sort of scene in his early childhood. Judging he couldn’t take care of this mess all by himself, he decided to wait until Marik woke up.

But before retreating upstairs, he went forward and grabbed the millennium rod, which had been shoved into a chest like a flag. Looking at the deadly tip soiled by smelly fluids, he frowned in disgust. It wasn’t even the worst. The worst was what he was stepping on - almost tripping on - the swarming maggots infesting the floor, the cuts of putrefied flesh… 

Rod in hand, Bakura quickly made his way back to the living room before dying by asphyxiation or plainly realising that he had been standing in a pool of almost dried blood and maybe, well,  _ shit _ .

Since Marik was still asleep, Bakura decided to take time for himself. He threw the pyjamas in the bin and showered with a lot of soap and shampoo until his skin and hair didn’t stink like the new Chanel’s "rotten corpses". Then, he gave the same treatment to the millennium rod. Just after doing that, he showered again, because he had the disturbing feeling that worms were crawling under his skin. Also, his brain had finally admitted the fact that,  _ yes _ , it was definitely shit he had been standing on, because,  _ yes _ , during the process of decomposition, internal fluids have the nasty habit to be released from every orifice and,  _ yes _ , he could have lived without bloody knowing that!

When he returned to the living room, Marik had regained consciousness and was glancing at every shadow.

"Better?"

Marik nodded, still examining his surroundings with piercing eyes.

"Don’t freak out, but Melvin and Ryou did an impression of Sweeney Todd in the basement. Minus the cannibalism."

_ Well, I didn’t properly count their organs, but I’m going to assume nobody ate them or I’ll puke… It’s not because I think Cannibal Holocaust should have received an Oscar for his beautiful and romantic story that I plan eating people anytime soon. _

Marik stared at him calmly, but with a discreet twitch in his eyes, as if he was trying not to explode in anger.

"’kay, should have seen that coming. What do we do, now?"

"We’re going to discard the bodies somewhere. Maybe in a rubbish tip."

"Oh, because we have  _ several _ bodies in the basement, _ for real _ ?!"

Marik stood up and, while trying to maintain some composure, moved towards the bathroom.

"I need to throw up my cupcake," he explained when Bakura raised one sceptical brow.

 

Later, they found out, although it wasn’t astonishing, that burning fingertips, dismembering bodies with a handsaw and an axe, altering their face beyond recognition, pulling off their teeth, wrapping limbs in bin bags and burying everything in a dump was extremely disturbing, even for one and a half evil genius – as Marik was still working on his evilness and cleverness unlike Bakura who felt wholly devilish and quite proud of it.

They came back to their house at dawn, wore out, smelling like Death and Pestilence themselves and covered in smut, sweat and dried blood. One of them even found a maggot on his clothes. Well, it had been Marik, who almost put a tantrum about it. For the first time, Bakura didn’t bark with laughter. He was too exhausted for that.

At least, they could finally sigh in relief…

Marik checked the letterbox by force of habit and found an envelope without a stamp. Bakura frowned and tried to throw it away. However, Marik yelled at him, hoping it was good news.  _ As if! _

Hopefully, they quickly forgot about the letter after dragging themselves into the living room. Too exhausted to do anything else, even taking a shower, they sat on the couch, Bakura sipping a cup of tea and Marik drinking cold sparkling water.

"Well, it could have been worse…" the blond mused, rubbing his eyelids despite the dirt on his fingers.

"How?"

Bakura drew closer, without Marik noticing it. Even stinky and sweaty, he was in the mood for a hug. Seriously, he deserved it after all he had gone through, once again, for and because of Marik. And if Marik didn’t want to pay his debt, Bakura would remember him how Melvin had smitten him with the ultra-fucking chicken’s help, since playing the guilty card on the Egyptian worked so well.

"Melvin could have killed another poor kitten," Marik whispered sadly.

Bakura snorted and scoot a little closer, coming almost shoulder to shoulder with the Egyptian. He could already feel the comforting warm emanating from Marik's body.

"Yeah, it would have been awful. I’m glad it was just  _ people _ ."

"Exactly."

Marik turned his head, looking at Bakura. Upon realising how dangerously close the white-haired demon was, he scowled. Bakura just needed to lean forward a little bit to cuddle up to him or, worse, kiss him.

"Fluffy, what are you doing?"

Bakura grinned, not batting an eye.

"Nothing." he said in a voice deeper and huskier than usual.

"Have you been moving closer?"

"Nope."

"Are you sure?"

"Perfectly sure."

Marik glared suspiciously at Bakura, and the devil stared at him as well, eyes half-closed, lips slightly parted. Marik clicked his tongue.

"I could've sworn you'd been scooting over me while I was talking."

"Oh, you’re hallucinating again!"

"No, I’m sure I’m not, fluff’. And hallucinations are Kaiba’s thing."

"Well…"

Marik pushed Bakura’s hand aside when the demon tried to brush his shoulder.

"Stop hitting on me, Bakura! I’m not gay, not in the slightest! It’s also Kaiba’s thing, according to you. And I’m still not convinced about it. He seems straight, as much as  _ I am _ ."

Marik drew away, leaning against the armrest, drinking his sparkling water and… ignoring Bakura, who felt utterly disappointed.

"Yeah, right. I should bend over for Melvin instead," he mumbled while reaching the opposite side of the couch.

"Exactly, bend over for him, because  _ he’s _ the gay one."

Bakura sneered and hummed softly, waiting for Marik to realise what he had consented to.

"W-wait a minute… Does that mean you’ll fuck me by proxy?" he screamed suddenly, horrified.

"Yes, it seems so. Thank for your approval, Marik. It means a lot to me."

Marik’s eyes widened, and he sprayed Bakura with some water.

"It’s… it’s effin’ gross! I _ forbid _ you to do that!"

Bakura looked at his blackened fingernails, not caring about the droplets of water dripping from his face.

"Well, if Melvin wants to hug me with all his love and ask me to handle his  _ other _ rod, tell me, what could I possibly do?"

"Not hugging him in the first place?" Marik yelled.

"You realise that Ryou and Melvin must have already shagged, right?"

Bakura chuckled… and gasped when he saw a livid Marik reaching for the letter, which they had earlier tossed on the coffee table like a piece of garbage.

The Egyptian tore the envelope open and unfolded the mysterious missive. Bakura recognised Ryou’s elegant handwriting and crossed his legs while sipping his tea, trying not to be too jittery.

 

_ Greeting, my good fellows! _

_ Since Melvin only know how to spell four or five words in English, but unexpectedly a lot more in various languages, I’ve taken the pen for both of us. _

_ We hope you had some fun tonight, and you, Marik, wasn’t a party pooper with all the space cupcakes you’ve eaten. I shouldn’t have given you so many of them, but you began asking questions about ‘that effing smell’ and your ‘effing rod’ and ‘that effing disgusting dirt and blood’ below your fingernails. You’re cute only when you shut your big mouth. _

_ In case you’re wondering if we can do worse, I shall remind you that Halloween season hasn’t begun yet. So, yes, it’s just foreplay. _

_ See you soon, Marik. _

_ PS: Bakura, don’t even think about burning my plushies. _

 

Marik’s eyes and mouth twitched again… in a fury this time. Despite his joke about making out – or more – with Melvin, Bakura knew it would be wiser to escape into his bedroom and double-locking it. He just didn’t have enough time to do so.

The anger overwhelmed Marik like lava had overwhelmed Pompeii.

Suddenly, Bakura found himself staring right at the bright eye of Anubis that had appeared on Marik’s forehead.

He wanted to flee away. However, Melvin punched him in the stomach, twice, before shoving him roughly onto the floor. A pained grunt escaped Bakura’s lips as soon as his back struck the cold tiles, and the china cup he had been holding shattered into pieces in a tinkling sound.

Melvin loomed over Bakura, a huge shit-eating grin spreading over his face. Without letting the spirit recover, he straddled his hips.

A sharp pain spread across Bakura’s back, but it was nothing compared to Melvin’s hands suddenly grabbing his throat, his thumbs digging into his flesh and pressing his windpipe. A sick hunger darkened the madman’s violet eyes, and the raw power emanating from his muscular and tanned body made Bakura shiver. Not in arousal, alas, although Melvin, lucky bastard, seemed dreadfully stimulated by Bakura’s struggle.

"Hello, Florence. How are you today? Really? Oh, me? I’m glad you asked. I’m fine. Especially now that I’m choking you. You should have hugged me the first time we met, you know?"

Bakura opened his mouth, yet he could barely utter a sound. His lungs started to burn from the lack of oxygen. The psycho was throttling him to death, and he couldn’t do anything about it, apart from accepting his fate, since using the ring’s power would harm Marik… He didn’t want to do that, not even to save his host’s body – Bakura couldn’t really die, after all.

"Oh, I have so much fun  _ presently _ . Not you?" Melvin added with another feral grin, all teeth shining.

Bakura’s vision blurred, but he was still conscious enough to see the crazy alter ego lick his lips and stuck out his tongue in mockery. Bakura tried to push him away, using as much strength as he could muster in his present situation, but to no avail. Melvin burst out of laughing and tightened his grip.

Bakura felt he was passing out from asphyxiation and decided it was more than time to sink into the thick, pitch-black darkness of the ring, alone but in safety, even if it meant letting Ryou deal with Melvin. Perhaps Marik’s evil alter ego wouldn’t hurt his landlord since they seemed to get along  _ so well _ . Or perhaps he would rip Ryou’s limbs off and eat his guts, but at least Bakura wouldn’t feel anything.

 

Melvin, still sat on Bakura’s hips, stop strangling him as soon as he saw Bakura’s body falling slack and his facial features softening. Good. He didn’t have any interest in the spirit, nor did he want him to interfere with his private matter with Ryou… for now. Later, perhaps he would be in the mood to put up with Bakura’s contempt and grouchy persona. Someone needed to teach him some basic humility, and Melvin knew exactly how to have him on his knees, all nice and submissive.

Melvin lapped Bakura’s dirty cheek, tracing his cheekbone with the tip of his tongue until it was glistening with saliva.

"Blood with a slight fragrance of mud and junk," he hummed.

When the white-haired boy regained consciousness with a cough, Melvin bit his throat, not too harshly, but still painfully, before he resumed his licking with pleasured growls, spreading saliva all over his milky-white skin and nudging his tongue against the corner of his lips.

As soon as he realised what  _ things _ Melvin was doing to him, Ryou let out an indignant gasp.

"Stop licking me!" he yelled, bringing his hands before his face, sweeping the wet spots.

Melvin’s grin widened wickedly, and he nuzzled his nose against Ryou’s.

"But I  _ love _ your smell!"

"What?!"

Far from being upset, Melvin let himself being pushed back by Ryou. He had known that his favourite plaything would be difficult, if not to keep his imaginary purity intact, at least to save appearances. He would soon squirm and beg, though.

"I smell like garbage and rotten meat, and my scalp is so itchy that I’m wondering if I don’t have maggots crawling on it."

"Yeah, it’s perfect!" Melvin said, passing his tongue over his lips and teeth, tasting the lingering flavour of blood and sweat in his mouth.

"You’re joking, right? Tell me you’re joking. You can’t possibly be seri…"

Ryou blushed. Melvin’s hardness pressed against his own crotch as the killer leaned down, bringing once again his nose against Ryou’s. Then, Melvin licked and sucked Ryou’s cheeks, jaw and neck while pressing him flat against the floor and entwining his fingers with Ryou’s snowy locks.

The sensation of a hand kindly massaging his scalp didn’t help Ryou to relax. He had known, deep down, that this day would come. He had hoped, though, that he would have months before him to prepare himself to reject Melvin and survive the day.

"Okay, you’re not joking indeed. Gross!"

"Don’t worry. I’ve just checked, and you’ve nothing in your hair."

"Still gross!"

Melvin straightened up and stared at him, his lips curved in a smirk.

"Eh, Ryou," he whispered. "Do you think Florence would freak out even more if we’re doing a home run before him and Marik?"

"The… what? What are you talking ab- oh…!"

Melvin curled his tongue between his teeth in a provocative way and barked with laughter when he saw Ryou’s revolted face. And, in fact, "revolted" couldn’t describe what Ryou really felt, the unease gnawing at him in that precise moment.

If the boy had let Melvin’s strange fondness to him develop to the point of bordering obsession, it had only been to have him wrapped around his finger and ready to comply with all his fancies, not because he wanted to… do  _ things _ that would involve letting Melvin shove something –  _ anything _ – into, erm, somewhere Ryou didn’t dare to name. Ryou didn’t want to do  _ that _ , especially not with Melvin. However, Melvin had the self-control of a horny teenager. It seemed he wasn’t aware of Ryou’s discomfort or, more likely, didn’t care at all.

Melvin suddenly snuggled closer to Ryou, his warm breath caressing Ryou’s neck and his strong hands ruffling Ryou’s hair. It would have been  _ almost _ cute if Ryou hadn’t felt Melvin’s hard dick pressed against his thigh, which made him turn red.

"How amusing!" Melvin whispered, his face buried against the crook of Ryou’s neck. "My little evil genius lets me kill people but is grumpy and all flustered if I  _ hug _ him too much."

Ryou gasped when teeth pinched the skin just above his Adam’s apple.

"You’re not hugging me, y-you’re licking me when I’m filthy! There’s the difference!"

Of course, he wouldn’t have let Melvin  _ hug _ him even if both of them had been cleaned from head to toe, an extra bit of information he wasn’t willing to share, though. Who knew what Melvin would do after being rejected? Ryou had seen him chasing, torturing, killing people. He didn’t want to be his next victim as much as he didn’t want to share any sort of intimacy with him. Knowing Melvin, there wasn’t any difference between love and abuse, and Melvin certainly didn’t love him. Ryou was just another toy that Melvin would throw away or destroy as soon as he would get bored, something that would happen quickly.

All of the sudden, Melvin looked at him with an intense glare, as if trying to guess Ryou’s thoughts. Then, he quickly gripped Ryou’s wrists and pinned them above his head.

The boy gulped, a lump in the throat. He couldn’t determine whether the madman who had been his ally until now was mad at him or even more aroused by Ryou’s resistance.

"So, that means I can lick you  _ if _ you’re not filthy?" Melvin purred. "What about taking a shower together? Some weeks ago, you  _ promised _ me you would do _ anything _ , remember? You promised me even though I said to be careful what you wish for."

Ryou swallowed hard and wriggled a bit.

He was so screwed.


	4. Be careful what you wish for

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of things happened and, long story short, I couldn't find the time to publish the next chapters.
> 
>  **TW:** dubious consent and various acts of violence. I should precise that I don't think that Ryou asked for it, and I don't condone Bakura's behaviour.

"What the frig? Are you really expecting to run away from me?"

Ryou stopped drawing back, but only because he had bumped into the headboard.

Averting his eyes from Marik pointed look, he flinched a little and darted a glance around. The door seemed beyond his reach. Even if it hadn’t been the case, he wouldn’t have had the energy to shove Marik away and dash downstairs.

"No… It’s just… You know I don’t like this…"

Ryou’s voice was raspy, slow and weak as if he hadn’t drunk anything for hours, maybe days. However, his weakness and unease didn’t arouse Marik’s sympathy at all.

"Stop whining like the effing’ limey bitch you are, Ryou, and open your mouth."

"No," the boy muttered between clenched teeth while wrapping himself up in the white quilt. "My throat still hurts."un

Marik, who was only wearing a very revealing boxer and a black t-shirt, kneeled in front of Ryou. The mattress sagged under his weight.

When the British boy bury himself even more under the quilt, until his face was barely visible, Marik tried to bring an engaging smile on his lips by the thought that everything was _perfectly fine_. If he started to think otherwise, he would have to admit that he – or, rather, the darkest part of himself – wanted nothing more than taking one of the pillows and pressing it against Ryou’s face until his lips went blue.

 _Still, he'd be a lot quieter if he were dead_ , a twisted voice observed wryly in his mind. _Quieter and, at last, fuckable, don’t you think?_

Marik shook his head to drive the other one off before ugly things happened. _Again_.

Since the spiral of murders, Melvin was more bloodthirsty and horny than ever. As if that shift in his conduct wasn’t horrible enough in itself, Melvin also started talking to Marik. Melvin was especially upset against Ryou, making snide and menacing remarks whenever he could, to the point Marik couldn’t even focus anymore on what other people were blabbering about. The train of Melvin’s wicked thoughts was invading his mental space, swirling around his own ideas and haunting his reveries. Sometimes, it was just " _killkillkillkill"_. Sometimes, it was more elaborate, like how he would spread Ryou's legs and fuck him with the rod. He didn’t know exactly what had happened between those two, but he figured that one of them had definitely gone off the rails, and he suspected that it might be his evil alter ego.

Although Marik was happy that Ryou’s and Melvin’s sickly friendship didn't last long, he wasn’t so fond of Melvin’s new talkative behaviour. Marik was neither his friend nor his brother. He had never invited him inside his head, well, not consciously, at least. Moreover, he certainly didn’t want to bond over their new shared hatred for Ryou.

"Marik?" a distant voice asked.

_Look at him. Look at his perfect, white skin. Look at his rosy lips. He’s just asking for it! Go to the kitchen, grab a knife, find Florence’s handcuffs and…_

_Shut the eff up, Melvin!_ Marik snarled, rubbing his temples.

If only he didn’t have such a broken mind…

The psycho should have been gone for good after his demise, but the first time Marik had gotten angry, some weeks after Atem’s victory at Battle City, he had passed out. When he had eventually "woken up", the man who had pissed him off had been butchered in a very Melvin’s way.

Not so long after the multidimensional cube’s mayhem, Marik had left Ishizu and Odion. Melvin had gone on a killing spree. Marik needed to protect them.

He had kept moving every month, here and there, blaming himself for having created a monster just because he had wanted to be hugged by someone after his nightmarish initiation as a tomb keeper leader.

One night, his distress had driven him to bang at Ryou’s door, although he had been perfectly aware that Bakura couldn’t help him this time since the demon had stupidly died trying to kill the pharaoh. And the Limey boy had always hated his guts. So, Marik wouldn’t have been shocked if Ryou had laughed at his misfortune. But nothing of that sort had happened.

After Ryou had opened the door, his chocolate eyes had gone darker, and his pursed lips had spread in a cocky, familiar grin.

Realizing that his only real friend had survived, Marik had broken down in tears. And for the first time in months, he had felt full of hope. That, perhaps, Melvin would be kept at bay somehow.

"Marik…?"

A concerned whisper.

Marik succeeded to focus on Ryou’s stupid face this time.

As Melvin’s frightening presence withdrew, Marik took a deep, shaking breath. He was calm. Per-fec-tly calm. The epitome of calmness on a sea of serenity. And he didn’t want to know what Melvin had implied by "fuckable", especially if Ryou were, well, super dead. Marik hadn’t planned necrophilia anytime soon. Or anything sexual involving the rod or a knife.

"Your throat hurt, you said?"

Ryou just nodded.

"Okay…" Marik sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Tell me again, whose fault it is, Ryou? Who was fooling around yesterday?"

Ryou was about to answer when Marik quickly added:

"Yes, exactly, _you_ and only _you_. Now, relax and…"

"But it’s bloody disgusting!" Ryou yelled, his cheeks flushing red.

"No, it’s not, for Ra’s sake!" Marik snapped with renewed anger. "Stop overreacting! It’s not a big deal, really…"

Ryou’s eyes narrowed as if he thought Marik had just lost his mind.

"Not a big deal? Not a _big_ deal? Seriously? For whom? _Masochists_?"

"No, for _Perfectly. Normal. People_. Now, before I force you, open your friggin’ mouth!"

Still distrustful, Ryou glanced at Marik. Once he saw what the Egyptian had grabbed, he gasped and wrinkled his face in disgust.

"Bloody hell, Marik! I'm going to choke on it!"

"I’ll certainly choke you if you keep acting like a stubborn brat! And if you don’t open your mouth, I swear I’ll shove the whole thing up your ass. Who knows? It could be even better for you…"

_And us. Yes, pleaaaaaase, do that. That would be so fun, to tear his little hole—_

_And I’m not listening to you, Melvin._

Ryou blushed and tensed up even more as Marik stared daggers at him. Then, his resolve melted.

Fighting was useless. Marik could overpower him easily and would do it if Ryou didn’t comply. He was still upset and bitter about Ryou’s _little prank,_ and Ryou could understand why, even though he would _never_ apologise for letting him and Bakura deal with a bunch of decayed corpses. After all, the Egyptian often treat him with disdain or compelled kindness, and the spirit with utter cruelty. Both of them should have suffered even more for their crimes against him, and Ryou was already thinking about his next scheme. _Alone_ , since Melvin wasn’t as reliable – or manipulable – as Ryou had thought he might have been.

With a faint sigh, Ryou obeyed. At least, he took some consolation in knowing that Marik would stop bothering him for the night. Ryou could have some rest, finally. He was tired and queasy, and their quarrel didn’t help him to feel better. On top of that, he could have sworn Melvin was ogling at him through Marik’s eyes, waiting for an opportunity to take control. Ryou couldn’t take the risk to face him again after what had happened between them days ago…

Closing his eyes and opening his mouth, Ryou leaned forward. He tried to think about something soothing, like how he would have loved eating ice creams, annoying some ghosts with his Ouija or plotting against the spirit who was inhabiting his body without showing any sort of gratitude to him. However, as the horrible and bitter taste submerged his tongue, Ryou knew he couldn’t bear it.

He almost spat on Marik’s face and gasped heavily for air. Not impressed by any means, the Egyptian grabbed him by his neck and forced him to take more, as he promised he would do earlier.

"Oh… god… I… I’m going to–to thro–ow u…"

Ryou gagged, spat out the homemade cough syrup once again and pushed the soup spoon aside. The nausea was unbearable. Hoping he would save Marik from his own vomit, he grabbed the blue eyes white dragon plushie, without realising that he was showing a glimpse of kindness for the first time in months. Alas, the brave dragon wasn’t enough for protecting the sheets, and it certainly didn’t spare them from the disgusting, rancid smell that soon met their noses.

Ryou whimpered. His eyes flickered to Marik sheepishly. He then quickly bowed his head, shrinking away from him. The Egyptian’s veins were twitching on his forehead and his eyes darkening.

 _Oops, fifty points for the little limey Binky Boy. What mister main personality will do, now? Make him lap his own puke?_ Melvin said in a bark of laughter.

Marik blinked and stared at the dirty stuffed toy, unable to react at first. Then, against all his resolutions, his face wrinkled.

"What the effin’ eff, Ryou! It’s a priceless custom–made! Only Kaiba might have one of these!"

Ryou gripped the sheets around him and bowed again in embarrassment, wishing it would be enough to calm down the Egyptian. He couldn’t deal with Melvin, not when he was sick with fever, sore throat and headache. He didn’t even want to picture what would happen to him if…

"I–I’m so sorry! I’m going… to clean everything and… wash the dragon and—"

He started as Marik set down the spoon and the cough syrup bottle on the nightstand with a loud thud. Then, the Egyptian glared at him.

Marik knew, deep inside of him, that he was playing Melvin’s game, who was presently all " _yesyesyes_ ". His anger had always been the crack through which his evil alter ego was able to infiltrate. But he couldn’t put up with Ryou anymore.

_Every time someone help him, he’s just so ungrateful._

_Yes, he is…_

_You’ve been so nice to him, Marik…_

_Yes, I have been…_

_So niiiice that I truly admire you…_

_You… you admire me?_

_He’s almost puked on you…_ Melvin whispered. _And he may have wreaked that precious plushie for good._

Marik clamped his hands on his knees.

_I don’t care about the money, I care because it's a gift… for making peace with him…_

_You’ve tried to be his friend countless times… because his Bakura’s host. But, now, even Bakura is…_

"Okay, I’m fed up!" Marik suddenly yelled. "First your jerk of a spirit stays one complete night under the rain, saying he has to teach you a lesson and, then, he seems to think it’s a hell of a joke to switch places with you because he also wants to teach _me_ a lesson, I don’t even know _why_ , because, eff, I didn’t do _anything_ to him. And, really, I wouldn’t have minded that you'd be such a crybaby if you were just, you know, weird but nice. But, noooo, you’re the cruellest person I've ever met."

Ryou sobbed faintly, hands clasped before him, but Marik didn’t pity him nor did he calm down. Overwhelmed by his frustration and his irritation, dazed by Melvin’s cackling, he didn't care about the consequences anymore.

"You even crueller than Melvin. You’re worse than him, Ryou, you’re a friggin’ monster who drugged me and played me and…"

Marik gasped for air, but Ryou was too stunned to seize the chance to talk.

"You know what? Good luck with your BFF. Kill someone else in my damn basement and, like fluffy would say if he were here, see if I care, stupid wanker."

Marik gave him the finger, and Ryou shuddered and swallowed hard despite his constricted throat, fearing what would happen next. As a way to soothe the young Egyptian, he put his delicate hands on his shoulders and patted him with a gentle smile. However, when he saw the Anubis’s eyes pulsating and glowing vividly on Marik’s forehead, he knew it was too late to ask for forgiveness.

"Hello, Melvin," he said awkwardly, still patting the broad shoulders without looking directly at the madman’s face. "How… how are you since…"

His voice trailed off momentarily when Melvin slapped his hands away and threw the dragon onto the floor like a piece of garbage.

"… since, since, well, the other day?"

Melvin huffed and, as soon as Ryou’s eyes flickered to him, he straightened up and flashed cruel smirk to him.

"Oh, I’m _glad_ you asked."

Melvin tugged Ryou’s quilt and tossed it aside. Then, he grabbed Ryou’s t–shirt and took it off forcefully, chuckling when the boy, flustered, folded his arms across his chest with a shiver. It would never grow old.

Even with a pair of sweatpants, Ryou wasn’t feeling comfortable under Melvin’s gaze, especially when his intimidating lavender eyes were filled with lust. And his laugh, it could have seemed genuine and lighthearted, but Ryou knew better to trust a happy Melvin. Not that Melvin couldn’t have genuine laughs, but lighthearted? He had the exact same chuckle when he cornered his victims and reflected on what sort of tortures he could provide them with. In this area, his imagination was limitless.

It had been okay, _before_ , because after so many years of loneliness and mental abused, Ryou had discovered that he had lost his empathy. Most of their neighbours had never been nice to him, anyway, and not being nice was more than enough to be killed in his opinion. He asked, Melvin complied. It was easy. But _now_ , he could still ask, even beg and cry, Melvin would not comply.

"Yo–you’re my friend…"

"Yes…"

"So…"

"So?"

"You should answer me? I mean… I… You okay?"

Melvin hummed in response. Then, he slowly reached for Ryou’s neck and grabbed it, pressing his fingers against his pale and fragile skin. He squeezed, and Ryou uttered a yelp.

"I'm not okay. I’m disappointed, my little limey betrayer… _Very_ disappointed in _you_ …"

Of course, Melvin hadn’t forgotten what had happened after he had suggested taking a shower with Ryou. And, of course, Melvin was resentful.

Ryou gulped, and his throat constricted even more when Melvin dug his fingernails deeper, almost breaking his skin.

"Can… can I say… I’m sorry? I just… freaked out… a little… You can understand that, right?"

Melvin pouted almost childishly.

"You freaked out a little? Aw, what a nice way to put it!"

 

**_Some days ago, when Ryou had just freaked out a little…_ **

 

Ryou was panting loudly. His lips were slightly swollen and reddened by Melvin’s rough kisses. The bloody maniac was all teeth and bites. He didn’t seem to care about sucking too hard and leaving bruises on his skin, nor did he seem to worry about letting Ryou breath.

"Melvin, slow down, please. I—"

"Worried?"

Ryou nodded, hoping that whatever the bloody murderer feel for him would be more than enough to impel him to have some mercy. When he saw a look of concern frowning Melvin’s eyebrows, he almost sighed in relief. Everything was okay. He was still in control.

"How come?"

Melvin softly stroked Ryou’s cheek with his thumb.

"Have I done something _wrong_? Something who've made you uneasy? Talk to me."

"It’s just too soon."

If Ryou hadn’t closed his eyes in reassurance, he would have noticed how Melvin’s lips were curving into a wicked grin.

"Too soon, uh?" he repeated in an affectionate tone. "Oh, my poor, poor, sweet Ryou…"

Feeling Melvin’s warm breath brushing his skin, Ryou opened his eyes wildly. Then, he gasped when Melvin gave him another rough kiss, bit his bruised lower lip and grabbed his wrists in one hand as a way to avert any resistance.

"Are you trying to use the guilt card on me?" Melvin whispered. "Because I think I’ve been quite patient with you."

Melvin’s smirk grew. A look of pure perversion was written all over his face.

"You should be happy. After all, you’ve always asked for more attention, attention that I’m eager to give you _right now_."

Melvin released his wrists, but grasped his waist instead, jabbing his thumbs in Ryou’s flesh and pinning him against the floor. At the same time, he pried Ryou’s thighs open with his knee. Ryou flinched, teeth clenched, when Melvin’s knee slightly rubbed his crotch.

"Or does your uncertainty is caused by the fact that you might not love me as much as I love you?"

Ryou’s heart was racing, beating almost painfully against his rib cage. Melvin might have guessed that his feelings – whatever they were exactly – were unrequited. That, or he was just toying with him. Whatever. Neither option seemed good for Ryou.

"No, I–I love you…!" he blurted out.

Melvin purred and nipped playfully Ryou’s jawline.

"I prefer that. Still, you don’t seem to be enjoying my company anymore. I wonder why…"

Of course, Ryou wasn’t enjoying it! If simple making out was already painful, it meant that Melvin wouldn’t let him go unscathed from sex, which wasn’t something Ryou was craving to experiment. Although he didn’t have any sort of experience whatsoever, he was almost certain that he would need prep and lub, things that Melvin would certainly not provide. Ryou wouldn’t even be surprised if the psychopath cackled sadistically at the request before tearing Ryou’s clothes off and…

Ryou tried to transform his horrified whine into a wanton moan when Melvin straddled his laps and rubbed his clothed hardness against Ryou’s totally–not–erected–member. All of his efforts were to not avail, but Melvin didn’t seem to notice his discomfort or didn’t care at all about it.

"Melvin, you… you promised me we would take a shower before we…"

Ryou couldn't bring himself to finish his sentence. Melvin narrowed his eyes at him dangerously and clawed at his waist.

"Fuck the shower," he hissed before bending down to bit Ryou’s bottom lips harshly until a copper taste overwhelmed their tongues. "You’re going to be all covered by sweat, spit, tears, sperm and blood after I ravished you, so why bothering about that, _love_?"

Something about Melvin’s derisive tone was telling Ryou that the bloody psycho was just playing the lover act. Nevertheless, he couldn’t totally rule out the unspeakable possibility that Marik’s alter ego was indeed fond of him.

As Melvin was reaching for his throat and trailing it with his tongue, Ryou tried to collect his thoughts. He needed to come up with a plan, or Melvin would just rape him.

Suddenly, Ryou remembered what Bakura had been doing just before Marik had opened his letter. He peered at the coffee table, catching a glimpse of black china sitting just in one of the corners. The teapot, filled with hot Darjeeling, was almost at arm reached. If he could just move closer or stretch out his arm a little bit more… But with Melvin still straddling him and pinning his hips to the cold floor, it was nearly impossible.

_You know what sounds like a good plan: let him fuck you. After all, you’ve asked for it!_

Ryou’s cheeks were burning with shame and anger, and not because Melvin had just decided to nibble his throat and shoulders, leaving red marks everywhere his teeth broke his fragile skin.

_Bakura, it’s a terrible thing to say to anybody. Help me!_

_I don’t see why I should intervene. He just wants to hug you._

_But it’s your body too!_

_I’m pretty sure he doesn’t want to rip our limbs off, so I’m okay with it._

_How can you be so sure he won’t kill me? And even if it were the case, I’m just British, not gay!_

Bakura almost burst into laughter.

_Right… You’re not gay… But am I, and Melvin caught me with the prospect of being all covered in sweat, sperm and whatsoever. As you should know by now, Marik doesn’t seem ready to do me anytime soon, and, what can I say? I’m a sex deprived pervert. Just relax._

Ryou clenched his fists and tried to switch places with the spirit. If Bakura was so willing to fool around with a dangerous psychopath, when the aforesaid psychopath was still nibbling Ryou’s neck and collarbone, crushing his waist between his clawed fingers and humping him, Ryou would gladly let Bakura deal with him. However, the spirit repelled him with a chuckle.

_No, no, it’s funnier if it’s you who are on the stage, landlord. I think you really need to get laid._

_Bugger that!_

_You know, if I don’t listen to your whines, I can almost picture Marik in place of Melvin. You remember Marik, right? The Egyptian who tried to be your friend and bought you all sorts of shits every time you're depressed. He didn’t even suspect that you could do something awful to him like, I don’t know, drugging him and letting corpses rot in his basement for shits and giggles? So, again: it serves you right, wanker._

Ryou had wanted to retort that both of them had done far more awful things to him, as stealing his bloody _life_ , but Bakura presence vanished.

Ryou felt even more desperate, to the point he was on the verge of tears. However, when Melvin ripped the fabric of his shirt up, the boy knew it was, undoubtedly, the last call. He needed to pull himself together.

"Wait, Melvin!" he shouted.

Melvin humphed at the sight of the glowing millennium ring on Ryou’s chest and push it slightly aside. Then, he traced playfully Ryou’s faint scars with his forefinger before pinching one of his rosy nipples between his sharp fingernails. Ryou squirmed and gritted his teeth, afraid, for a few seconds, that Melvin hadn’t heard him or that he didn’t _want_ to acknowledge he had heard him. But the psychopath finally shifted and straightened up slowly.

As the dilated lavender eyes were staring back at him, Ryou’s heart pumped quicker. Melvin was obviously bored with his interruptions, which meant he could snap at any moment now. Ryou hoped he didn’t show his inner worry on his face, because he would be really screwed otherwise, in all the meanings of the word. Idea, idea, he needed an idea. Something to say. Anything!

_Fuck me already?_

_Not helping, Bakura!_

_But at least he'd skip the rough foreplay._

Wetting his lips despite his dried mouth, Ryou said the first thing that came to his mind. Not the smartest thing, in fact…

"We should play a game!"

Melvin’s dull face finally expressed some interest, and his lips curved into a small and malicious smile.

"What sort of game, my little evil mastermind?" he asked, almost chanting.

Good question.

"Well…"

He grabbed Melvin by the front of his violet tank top and entwined his other hand in Melvin’s wild hair, narrowing his eyes at the same time.

"It’s called," he whispered at Melvin’s ear, "stop teasing me and fuck me already. If you dare…"

 _Finally!_ _Even though you stole my idea, wanker._

Melvin tossed his head slightly and snorted.

"As if I haven't already planned this."

"But…"

" _But?_ " _Oh, bollocks. Ryou, what are you scheming again? He just wants to be laid, not to kill you… yet. Just get over it and bend over. Or get in missionary and spread your legs. Or ride him. I don’t care. Don’t tell me you’ve never thought about having sex with him, or even Marik._

Ryou decided to ignore Bakura – he would blush otherwise.

As he was offering the psycho his most playful grin, he teased Melvin’s lips with the tip of his finger.

"I want…"

Melvin frowned, already growing impatient. Talking, especially while feeling so tense and tight in his pants, wasn’t his cup of tea.

"… to shag on Marik’s bed. He has silk sheets. Let's trash them."

Melvin was still staring at him as if he was reflecting about Ryou’s suggestion. Then, a feral smile spread over his face.

"And what would I win _if_ I accept? It can’t be a game if I don’t get a prize at the end."

"Marik will be pissed off."

"Na," Melvin yawned. "I’m already doing this on an almost daily basis. You can do better, I’m sure. Be imaginative. Impress me."

Impress him? Ryou furrowed his brows. He didn’t have any other idea. At least, any other idea that didn’t involve a lot of suffering and broken limbs from his part. And since his neck and throat, and also his shoulders, were already bleeding from multiple biting and scratching…

"You can… pull my hair as much as you want?"

_Woh, that's so vanilla._

_Bugger off, Bakura._

Snorting again, Melvin released Ryou’s waist and crossed his arms.

"You're _so_ cute…"

"And after that, you can tie me and wait until Bakura take over and then shag him too. I’m sure he’ll scream your name, long before the end of it. You know he's a slut."

_I beg your pardon? Are you out of your mind?_

_Oh, Bakura, don’t tell me you’ve never thought about having sex with him…_

_It was only_ once _and because Marik and his daft council upset me! And Melvin can touch me only if he successfully kills the pharaoh for good. With a chainsaw. Have you seen a chainsaw nearby? Or the pharaoh? No, neither did I. Because he’s in Egyptian paradise, buggering Egyptian Kaiba, or his useless Egyptian dark magician, or both of them at the same time, I’m sure of it!_

Ryou gasped when Melvin suddenly leaned over him and pushed harshly on his aching shoulders. His back slammed down onto the cold floor. As pain irradiated along his spine, he released a sharp yelp.

"I know what might be a good prize," Melvin purred while caressing Ryou’s jawline with his fingers. "Cutting and carving your white skin. Not in any visible area like your pretty face, don’t worry. But it will be a constant reminder that you’re mine and _only mine_."

_Bloody hell! You really have to upset him, do you?_

"I’m… I’m not sure, Melvin. You—"

Ryou swallowed when Melvin narrowed his eyes dangerously at him.

"You… you’re not very good at writing English, remember?"

He tried to giggle. However, the cruel grin of Melvin and his hollow eyes told him more than Ryou would have ever wanted to know about his sickly intention.

"Don’t worry, my little evil genius. I’m good at doodling, and I can write something in hieratic as well. Now, where is my rod?" Melvin mused while looking around him. He eventually caught a glimpse of gold on the dining table. "Oh, just here, waiting for the fun part."

Melvin leapt to his feet, grabbed Ryou by his arms and pulled him up.

"We’re going to have so _much_ fun, you’ll see."

After giving him an innocent smile, Ryou quickly seized the teapot sitting on the coffee table and smashed Melvin over his head with it.

It was as bold as stupid.

Utterly stupid.

Since the tea was already too cold to do any damage.

 

**_And now, the conclusion…_ **

 

Melvin cackled before digging his nails into Ryou’s neck, and Ryou yelped in pain and terror. He knew he was bleeding. He couldn’t possibly not bleed with Melvin clawing at him like this.

"You’ve hurt my feelings, and I don’t take it very well after all I did for you, bitch. Whom do you think I am? Your errand boy? An attack dog you can keep on a tight leash? Or, worse, a lapdog? Do I look like Susan to you?"

"I… I… I didn’t want to hurt your feelings."

 _If_ Melvin did have feelings for him, which Ryou still doubted. As far as he knew, the monster was just manipulating him, just as Ryou had done with Marik. It was a power game, and the boy wasn’t sure he could win it this time even if he used everything he had learned about deception.

"And… and… you certainly don’t look like Joey, I mean, Susan. As I said, I just panicked."

"Oh, did I really scare my little limey betrayer?" Melvin asked almost gently.

He patted the mane of white hair, and Ryou really tried to act submissive. However, thinking about how the warm fingers could snap his neck or rip his guts out didn’t help him to stay calm. His back crashed into the headboard with a loud thud as he jerked away instinctively.

Hollow eyes peered at him, and Ryou felt his heart’s rate speeding more and more.

"It’s just… I… You’re…" he trailed.

"I’m?"

Ryou looked at his grinning face, then lowered his eyes. He gripped the white quilt and tried to wrap it around himself again, which didn’t work at all, since Melvin grabbed it too and tore it off. Ryou's eyes widened. He summoned all his courage to speak again.

"You’re so… strong, impressive, y’know and, and, and…"

The words died in his sore throat when he raised his eyes one more time and saw Melvin’s vicious glare. Although the Anubis’s eye was irradiating his facial features with a ghostly golden beam, his dark purple eyes were still piercing and frightening. The Egyptian symbol on his forehead should have made him look like a god, but he was nothing more than a demon. A dreadfully pissed off demon. His muscular and tense body was towering over Ryou, who wanted nothing more than to curl in a ball.

"Hm, flattery it is? It might have worked, if you had tried enough," Melvin whispered.

He licked his lips, musing on something he obviously didn’t want to share. Then, he suddenly yanked Ryou’s hair, pulling him towards him, and gave him a wicked wink when Ryou yelped in fear.

"Crying? Much better, Binky Boy."

Brought nose to nose with Melvin, Ryou felt vulnerable. He didn’t know how he could turn the odds in his favour. Perhaps Bakura had been right. Perhaps he should have given to Melvin what he craved for instead of fussing about it. Of course, shagging with Melvin would have been a horrible, traumatizing experience, but Ryou would have managed to survive through this.

Could he say anything to atone his "crime" and soothe Melvin’s maddening anger?

Ryou’s hands suddenly reached up for Melvin’s head, cradling it. He gently stroked his thumbs against his tanned cheeks.

"I’m so sorry about the teapot!"

For a moment, Melvin seemed to cool down. He took one of Ryou’s hand and licked his forefinger before sucking on it gently. Ryou tried his best to not show how much he was unsettled. He forced himself to not recoil in disgust every time Melvin’s tongue was curling around his finger in a very allusive way. However, when Melvin ogled him while sucking harder on his finger, Ryou’s face flushed and wrinkled in a disturbing mix of repulsion and awkwardness. Melvin’s attentions was slowly turning him on, for a reason he didn’t even want to consider in a different way that the pure treason of his sick body.

Then, Melvin released his hand and brushed his lips against Ryou’s forehead. As usual, his breath was warm, almost hot. He didn’t seem to be bothered by the scent of the vomit, but it wasn’t surprising since he hadn’t been bothered by the smell of rotten flesh either. Nevertheless, Ryou really hoped Melvin wouldn’t kiss him on the mouth.

Melvin’s lips traced Ryou’s jaw, then his neck. He nibbled it, sucking softly Ryou's skin, tracing gentle circles with the tip of his tongue. Ryou's jaw dropped when Melvin's hands drove between his thighs, groping his hardening cock and his balls through his sweatpants. Face red and hot, Ryou wriggled and moaned at the same time. He gestured to push Melvin's hand away, but then realised in shame, as sparks of pleasure spread into his belly, that he didn't want him to stop. He blamed the fever for his inappropriate behaviour, for his sudden urge to press into Melvin's hand, to lean into his touch.

"You indeed seem _sorry_. I can feel it."

"P-please."

Ryou wasn't sure if he was begging for Melvin to leave him alone or to continue. He would rarely masturbate, afraid that Bakura may watch and make fun of him. Letting Melvin touch him was so wrong and stupid. In spite of that, Ryou couldn't help but hate Melvin for not touching him like this days ago. Because it was good this time. Because he didn't know it could be that good. Because Melvin was proving him he was capable of being something else than rough. Because nobody ever touched him like this and he starved for more.

Melvin stopped suddenly, but before Ryou could protest, his hand slipped under his waistband. He wrapped his fingers around Ryou's length. His thumb pressed into Ryou's slit and spread precum over his cock. Then, Melvin started to stroke in slow, firm motion.

Ryou wanted to stay still and to not give in to his growing desire but couldn't prevent his hips to move on their own accord. He closed his eyes, panting, squirming, as shivers of pleasure racked his body. Melvin's skin was warm and surprisingly soft.

"You should see you, all hot and bothered because of a simple handjob. You clearly have no idea of the things I can do with my tongue."

"Oh god!"

"Yes, tell your god how much you want him to make you cum with his tongue. Perhaps he'll answer your prayers."

Ryou hid his face against Melvin's shoulder. It was so embarrassing, and Melvin perfectly knew that.

"God, p-please…"

"Just 'please'? You should beg me to dominate you like the slut you are."

Melvin sucked on Ryou's Adam's apple and pumped his cock harder and faster. Ryou's resolve became thin, melt. It didn't matter anymore that Melvin was a dangerous serial killer who could slice his throat or rape him or just do both at the same time. Ryou craved the touch, the love, the physical pleasure Melvin was finally giving him.

"Please, dominate m-me. I'm a slut. Don't ever stop…"

Melvin's fingers suddenly squeezed him more firmly. Ryou clamped his hands over his mouth as a wave of pleasure stronger than before washed over him. His toes curled, and a white veil blinded him for a moment.

Melvin cackled.

"Oops, sorry!"

When Ryou came back to his senses, the wet sensation of the semen in his sweatpants made him blush, but not as much as the thought of what he had just done, abandoning himself to Melvin and begging him for more with words he would have never used under normal circumstances. Burning with shame, he didn't dare to look at Melvin and started fiddling with the quilt he had just retrieved.

Melvin, still chuckling, wiped his hand on the bed. He then ruffled Ryou's hair.

"You liked this, did you?"

"Y-yes."

Although he shouldn't have to.

"And you'd like to do it again, I am right?" asked Melvin, eyes narrowing.

Ryou hesitated a bit. The thought of whoring himself to be spared left a bitter taste in his mouth, but if he could entice Melvin to keep touching him like this… Just touching him. It was wrong but Ryou needed it.

"Yes…"

Melvin hummed, seemingly pleased.

He hugged Ryou, bringing him closer, his hands resting on the small of Ryou's back. However, when his lips kissed Ryou’s collarbone, he sank his teeth into it. Harshly. Breaking the pale skin. Tasting the blood on his tongue.

Ryou couldn’t hold a shriek of pain. Tears began to well up his eyes. Melvin’s sadistic grin became bigger, his lips reddened by the boy’s blood.

"Well, you should really have thought about that when it was still time. Just FYI, I'm not angry about the teapot… I'm angry about what you _both_ did after that."

 

**_After the teapot’s accident…_ **

 

 _Ryou, you_ might _want to run._

_I don’t see why, Bak…_

Ryou’s eyes widened when he saw that Melvin was looking at him behind locks of damp hair.

Melvin had flinched in pain, almost tumbled down, but his legs had refused to buckle, and he hadn’t lost his balance. Perhaps Ryou hadn’t hit him with enough force, or perhaps Melvin wasn’t the kind of man to fall for so little.

"Well, who could've guessed that you were so much into foreplay," Melvin purred.

He seemed more amused than angry. Yet, his lifeless eyes were staring at Ryou as if Melvin wanted nothing more than throwing him into the purple darkness of the Shadow Realms.

 _Ryou, run,_ now _!_

The boy didn't dither this time. He dashed out from the living room, panted up the stairs and slammed shut his bedroom’s door. Then, he leaned against it, puffing and huffing.

"What… what I’m… I’m go–going to do, now? B–bakura? Bakura?!"

_Shut up, stupid wanker. I’m thinking!_

If Melvin wasn’t angry – but he would be, soon –, Bakura certainly was. Nothing of that sort would have happened if his stupid host hadn’t thought he could handle the madman and bring him to follow his will without paying anything in return. Ryou should have known better. He should have known that Melvin would want to be rewarded by something equal to his effort. And what could have been a better prize than Ryou’s innocence, especially when Ryou wasn’t as clever and deft as he thought? Now that Bakura could delve into Ryou’s memory, it was obvious from the beginning that his host didn’t have any desire to have the psycho’s hands anywhere around his nice ass. It was also obvious that Melvin was toying with him and exploiting his insecurities. And Ryou hadn’t even been smart enough to take Melvin’s "be careful what you wish for" as what it was: a good piece of advice.

Suddenly, Ryou started and looked at the door in horror. Melvin was drumming his fingernails against the wood panel.

"Ryou," he whispered with a silky voice. "Do you know what I’m going to do to you first?"

"Erm… Kiss me?"

Melvin chuckled wryly, and the drumming of his nails came to a stop.

"I’ve already done that. I’m talking about something I haven’t done yet. Like…"

Silence fell for some unsettling seconds. Then a scratching sound pierced it, and Ryou covered his ears with his hands until the silence descended again for another endless moment. A chill shiver crawled down his spine when he heard a humming behind the door. Now he knew what Melvin’s victims had felt before dying. Dread, coupled with the hopeless certitude of painful agony.

"I’m going to carve your shoulder blades first. I like the way your white skin move around your bones in this area. It will be as if my writings were coming to life. Then…"

Ryou gulped. He could almost picture how the rod’s deadly tip would break his skin and trace bleeding arabesques through it, to the point he felt nauseated and dizzy.

"I’m going to tear off the skin along your spine, layer by layer. Not everywhere, be reassured. I’m going to create a nice pattern of red _sakura_ petals, something beautiful and delicate like you, a token of my affection."

_Ryou, to the wardrobe._

The boy shook his head and bit his lips. He couldn’t move an inch.

_Fuck. What kind of nickname did you give him?_

_Ni… Nickname? I… I don’t know… Maybe… My beloved murderer? Sometimes._

Bakura snorted.

_Lovely and appropriate._

"After that, I’m going to fuck you senseless into the floor. And if you’re as submissive as you seem…"

Melvin’s low laughter made Ryou shrink into himself.

"Oh, what I’m saying? You’re not submissive at all, Ryou. So, after teaching you how to behave, perhaps I’ll let you ride me for the second round. But you’ll have to be convincing or I’ll have to carve another paragraph on your back."

Terror stunned Ryou. He didn’t even react when Bakura pushed him behind and took control of their body.

"What sort of writings, my beloved murderer?" he asked while mimicking his host’s soft voice.

"They’ll say how you’re a lazy slut in bed."

"Oh, don’t worry! I’m anything but lazy. I was talking about the writings on my shoulder blades."

As he was talking, Bakura went to the wardrobe and opened it silently. He pushed Ryou’s clothes aside until he could see a small vault at the back of one of the shelf.

"Oh, those are about your life. It's a family tradition, something we do to our loved one, you see? It'll explain how the spirit possessed you since your childhood, how he used you for killing poor orphan children and their useless Egyptian daddy, how you repressed your memories, how no one ever cared about you or how they used you and how you became my slave because you thought you're smarter and tougher than me. I like you, though. You’re charming and entertaining. I would've already killed you out of boredom if it weren’t the case."

"Well, if you like me so much, I’ll do my best to keep you charmed and entertained as long as I can, _master_."

Bakura tried not to giggle when he opened the chest and retrieved, between stolen millennium items and knives of all sizes and forms, the taser he had bought not so long after the day Marik had nestled against him, sobbing endlessly about his other personality and his crimes. Bakura had always known it would be helpful. He just had wished it wouldn’t be so soon.

"But, Ryou," Melvin began with an annoyed whisper, "I’m presently more pissed than entertained. And you might not like me when I’m pissed."

Bakura cocked one eyebrow.

"I’m sorry, I didn’t want to piss you off. I'm just a shy and pure Limey boy who's impressed by his master."

"Then, open the door."

Well, Bakura wasn’t really surprised that the psycho had the same patience than Yuugi when presenting a new Duel Monsters booster box devoted to his Magician Loli Girls.

Bakura hid the taser under one of the pillows and tossed some plushies onto the floor to make room for himself. Then, he sat at the edge of the bed, catching at the same time his reflection in the cheval mirror. Ryou’s cheeks were still flushed, his lips almost red from the rough kisses and bites, and his neck displayed new shades of blue and carmine. His waist was also blueish, especially just above his hips.

It was the first time Bakura felt something close to guilt. If he had taken over Ryou sooner, the boy wouldn’t have been harmed. But he quickly brushed off this thought, as he was still holding grudges against his host. Ryou had played with fire and hurt Marik. So, it served him right to be molested by this lunatic.

"If you really want me, a tiny door shouldn’t be a problem, Melvin. I'm not going to give my ass to some weakling."

Bakura leaned back against the bed, putting his weight on his elbows, legs slightly spread out. The most difficult to achieve was to not look too smug.

He didn’t have to wait long before Melvin slammed the door open and took a step forward. His violet eyes were filled with lust. Still, anybody could have seen that something was off, for it wasn’t the stare of someone deeply and genuinely in love, but the one of someone who wanted to crush the boy who had defied him, as a way to prove his dominance over him.

Bakura didn’t have to fake his shiver when the psycho came nearer, his fingers clenched around the millennium rod. Melvin stopped in front of the bed, but not at arm’s reach. He seemed to have learned his lesson.

"So…"

His voice was soft, almost affectionate, however, the way he had begun to tap the palm of his hand with the head of the millennium rod conveyed a sense of danger.

"Finish undressing. You don’t want your clothes to get dirty."

"They’re already dirty."

"Dirtier, then."

Melvin didn’t grin and eyed Bakura with a deadpan gaze. Waiting. Still taping the millennium rod slowly against his palm.

Bakura followed the motion of the rod, noted how Melvin’s muscle was tensing and stretching at every move, then reassessed his capacity to overcome Melvin, especially when he didn’t want to hurt Marik too much. Using the taser was the nicest he could do, and maybe it wouldn’t suffice. And if it didn’t suffice… he couldn’t imagine the wrath of the psycho – well, Melvin could also be pleased by his resistance, but one way or another, it wouldn’t go unscathed from that.

A shiver worm it’s way down his spine. He could let Ryou deal with his own mess. However, he quickly decided not to let the boy endure that and, if the worse happened, not to let him remember it either.

Bakura slide back on his elbows until he met the headboard.

"Why don’t you undress me yourself?" he asked, biting his bottom lip playfully.

Melvin didn’t move a muscle and even gave him a threatening glare. With a sigh, Bakura unbuckled his belt, then removed his pants and his boxer, and throw them away. He knew that Ryou should have been more sheepish about stripping himself in front of someone, though he had the feeling that Melvin didn’t care at all. He was ogling him now, a hint of a smile finally reaching his lips.

Was it wrong to feel aroused, even though Bakura wasn’t used to being so submissive?

He slapped himself mentally. Melvin wanted to carve Ryou’s skin, which Bakura couldn’t let happen. Not only because he wouldn’t like it himself, but also because he had to protect his host, their shared body, right?

Melvin sat on the bed, and the deadly tip of the millennium rod shined when he uncapped it.

"Turn around."

Bakura resisted the urge of telling him to bugger off and obeyed, leaning on his stomach. He needed to be patient.

He tried not to think about the way Melvin’s thighs was squeezing his naked hips when the psycho straddled him, how his muscles were so noticeable under the slightly rough fabric of his cargo pants and how he could feel Melvin’s hardness pressing against his lower back. It became easier after Melvin lashed his back with the millennium rod’s head, then scraped his shoulder with the other end.

Bakura grabbed the taser, spun around despite Melvin’s weight and, as the psycho was losing his balance, quickly hit him in his side while pushing the button.

Melvin yelped in pain… and collapsed head first onto the pillows.

Although Bakura had been hoping it would be more than enough, he was quite surprised to be victorious.

 

**_Okay, I hope it was the last flashback before long…_ **

 

"I hope so too. You're starting to get on my nerves, voice over," mused Melvin before reverting his gaze on Ryou. "Now, where were we? Oh, yes, I was about to kill you for being an ungrateful and untrustworthy slut…"

Ryou shook in fear and let out a faint whine.

"Melvin, I…"

"… and fuck you. Maybe in that order. Or not. No, I know, I’m going to fuck you, kill you and fuck you again. I’m going to cut through your belly – when you’re still alive – and shove my dick inside and…"

"Melvin, I swear, I’m really sorry! It’s just that… that…"

Melvin hissed.

"Smashing me over the head with a teapot full of cold tea might've passed for extreme foreplay. Tasering me? That is a fucking different kettle of fish, Binky Boy!"

"It wasn’t me! It was Bakura!"

"I know it was Bakura. He sucks at impersonating you. But you begged for his help, right? You preferred Bakura over me."

Melvin clicked his tongue, then seized the millennium ring’s string hanging on Ryou’s neck. He yanked at it until the string broke, then hurled the ring behind his shoulder without even giving it a glance. The magical item crushed on the floor with a loud jingle.

"But now, it’s just you and me," Melvin whispered.

Ryou gasped in horror. Although Bakura didn’t seem to react well to the sickness, to the point of being strangely quiet, the boy had hoped the spirit would have protected him once again. Now, he was alone and defenceless.

As Ryou was curling up as if he wanted to disappear, he felt Melvin’s hand grab his hair. Tears filled his eyes when Melvin pulled at his locks and forced him into a sitting position. After that, he slammed forcefully Ryou into the headboard, cackling with laughter the moment the boy uttered an excruciating cry.

"We could have got along so well, Ryou, if you had been a good plaything. I hope you now realised what you missed…"

He cradled Ryou’s head and leaned forward until their foreheads touched.

Swallowing hard, Ryou closed his eyes. This time, he tried not to wince when Melvin put his hands around his throat and squeezed slightly as if he just wanted to frighten him and not to throttle him to death.

Then, Ryou sneezed, wheezed and coughed convulsively.

 

When Ryou caught his breath and opened his irritated eyes, he shrank into himself, sure that Melvin would beat him just for having sneezed at him. However, Melvin’s expression was deadpan with a hint of weariness.

"Oh, you were so eager to be jerked off that I forgot. You’re _sick_ …"

He brushed his spattered cheek, then seemed to reflect on the situation while glancing sideways at Ryou.

"Not funny," he muttered.

He stood up and straightened up. Surprised, Ryou opened his eyes widely.

"W–what?"

Melvin, looming over him, gave him an accusing glare.

"Can you at least run?"

"I-I could, uh, try?"

Melvin frowned at him.

"You can’t put a proper fight while being sick. So killing you now wouldn’t be fun. Call me when you’re feeling better."

Ryou blinked and stared at Melvin as he was walking out, yawning and rubbing the back of his head nonchalantly.

Ryou’s brain couldn’t process what had just happened.

Did Melvin postpone his death just because Ryou… couldn’t put a good fight? Couldn't run?

He blinked again.

Apparently.

Ryou crawled out of the bed and retrieved the millennium ring, since the cruel spirit was still his best weapon against his former ally. After tying the string ends together once again, he put it around his neck with a relieved sigh.

"Bakura?"

No response.

Ryou was feeling dizzy, near to pass out from exhaustion. And, still, he couldn’t stay inside the house. It might take days before Marik reappeared, and, in the meantime, Ryou could recover and Melvin murder him to celebrate. Ryou wouldn’t bet his life on the slight hope that Marik would eventually take over his evil alter ego, even though he wasn’t sure to be able to flee far away in his condition.

Ryou cleaned himself and got dress as quickly as he could. He packed some useful things in a backpack: his smartphone, the disgusting homemade medication, a Kuriboh plushie for company and one of Bakura’s knife retrieved from the safety safe. He didn’t touch the other millennium items, as he wasn’t sure how to handle them without harming himself.

Then, with a sorry glance at the soiled blue eyes white dragon toy, he sneaked cautiously out of his bedroom.

Escaping from the slightly open bathroom door, the sound of water was resonating through the corridor.

Ryou kept moving forward on his tiptoe, fearing that Melvin would hear his footsteps, or, far worse, that the madman wasn’t under the shower and was waiting for him downstairs, as the clever bastard he was. Thankfully, Melvin seemed to have underestimated him: nobody was in sight in the hall, and Ryou snaked out by the front door.

He sniffled as the cold and wet air brushed his face, then walked down the street.

If Ryou had known what sort of odd adventure was waiting for him outside, maybe he would have thought twice before escaping…


	5. A different kettle of shipping, part 1

A heavy, freezing rain was pouring down from the dark sky. It had chased away all the night owls who might have been still outside. All but one.

Sheltered just under a porch, Ryou was shaking. He had been surprised by the storm, and his clothes weren't enough to protect him from its anger. Droplets of cold water were running along his face, glistening his pale skin. His hair was a drenched mess of white, cascading down his thin shoulders, wetting even more his damp shirt. More liquid had pooled around his feet, drawing a wide puddle of murky water that barely reflected the street lights.

Ryou, teeth chattering, sneezed and sniffled. He looked desperately through his bang at the bus station just across the street. It was only twenty meters away.

He couldn’t stay here, at the risk of being frozen to the bone. His whole body was already painful, as if it was about to break into tiny pieces. And, still, he couldn’t brace himself and cross the road, for it would mean fighting against the elements and his illness at the same time. Fever made his head heavier than ever, and the buildings seemed to spin. The streetlights looked more and more like a unique halo of yellow meddled with patches of dark shadows and grey curtains of rainfall.

As his vision blurred once again, he squinted his eyes, hoping it would help him to see what was just in front of him, but even his hands seemed distorted. He stared at his fingers who had turned red and wondered if he would lose them. He quickly shove his hands in his jeans' pockets, but he still shivered when the chil wind picked up.

Perhaps running out in the middle of the night, without even a coat or an umbrella, hadn’t been a great idea. However, what other options did he have? Melvin would have killed him, or worse… His gentleness when he had been touching him had only be a mean to humiliate Ryou after enticing him to beg, and the thought brought tears in his eyes. He should have known.

If only he could find the strength to drag himself to the bus station. There, he would be able to buy a ticket for somewhere, anywhere, and, then, lay on a bench to take a nap before the bus departure, maybe buy something warm to eat and drink, even though he wasn’t sure he had brought any money with him, to start with. Everything was fuzzier and fuzzier, including his memories.

Of course, Ryou had tried to coax assistance from past acquaintances. He had called Yuugi, maybe minutes or hours ago. However, Ryou had gone directly to his voicemail, which had informed him that the pharaoh’s former host would only call him back if it was about Duel Monsters or saving the world. Ryou could have tricked Yuugi by telling him everything about Bakura's returns, but he hadn't found the heart to do so, and, besides, he didn't want to be lectured about his irresponsibility. After all, he should have been aware that wearing a mysterious necklace received from some unknown fangirl would be hazardous since he had quite an experience with being possessed through old artefacts.

Then, Ryou had called Joey, who had spat out something like that: "I can't believe dat dis fuckin' psycho is back fom teh dead. And if ya'ren't joking, I'm not gonna help ya, jeez. I'm scared fo' life because of him, ya know?". Of course, Joey had hung up on him without waiting for an answer.

Ryou hadn’t bothered to call Tristan. His head had been hurting enough like that without adding whatever nonsense Tristan could have said.

Since Téa was in New York, whoring herself – or taking dance classes, which didn’t make a huge difference in Ryou’s opinion, as success came quicker if you could do better blowjobs than your rivals… – So, since Téa was in New York doing _things_ , Ryou had hoped she could grant him asylum. Except that he was _still not gay_ enough, and, apparently, she was only interested in sheltering gay people, as a way to prove to her new Broadway friends that she was an open-minded artist. He had called her a tart for being so selfish and catty. She had called him a useless limey boy who couldn’t even speak proper English. Then the line had cut off, not because of the poor weather…

They would most likely both regret later the words they said to each other.

Now that Ryou was freezing to death in the street, he was seriously contemplating suicide, which wasn't without irony since he had left the house as a way of avoiding his death. Bakura couldn’t or didn’t want to answer him, no matter how much Ryou yelled at the ring or jiggled it, and it seemed he didn’t have friends anymore, which wasn’t a big surprise. After all, nobody had never cared about him… They had always been a bunch of arseholes to him. He should have asked Melvin to kill them all instead of his petty neighbours. A road-trip around Japamerica. Téa beheaded as the great final. Then, they would have packed her severed limbs, and…

… _I would've sent them to the pharaoh…_

"Bakura?" Ryou asked, his heart pounding in his chest with renewed hope.

… _and then I would've killed the pharaoh and ate grapes and and and Marik’d shag me insanely on Atem’s cold body oh wel-hung Min yes finally…_ the spirit mumbled drowsily.

Ryou flushed red. He had always been aware of Bakura’s fantasies. When they were both asleep, their dreams sometimes collided, to the point it was often hard for him to tell which parts were his or Bakura's. But they had never talked about it, and Ryou had always been okay with that unspoken rule.

He cleared his sore throat and tried not to be distracted by what was becoming a very graphic description of all the things that Bakura could do with his, _their_ tongue. God, Ryou had no idea until now, and his stomach churned at the thought of Melvin's broken promise. He wiped his forehead, unsure if it was still the fever that made him feel so hot.

 _Hot and bothered_ , Melvin had stated. He had touched Ryou as no one had before and, then, made fun of him…

Ryou gagged. He pressed a cold hand against his puffy eyes, praying for the words and his shame to sink into oblivion somehow.

"Bakura, listen to me, I need your help!"

It didn't prevent Bakura from rambling. Red crept over Ryou's face, and he swallowed hard. Suddenly, his pants seemed tighter.

… _suck his head and his cock’ll hit back my throat I’ll be moaning around his length until he cum all over my face and I’ll have my brown skin and my sexy scar back Ryou can’t even tan properly he burns so white like cold snow shouldn’t have stayed under the rain sick now why I’m still under the rain where’s Marik need something warm oh my Zorc I think I’m dying for the third fourth something time must kill the pharaoh before dying again don’t want to die I hope Ryou’s okay…_

"No, I am _not_ okay, Bakura, please…!"

Ryou coughed because of his yell. His dry throat started throbbing again.

White dots appeared and popped in front of him. He closed his eyelids, hoping he could fight back his dizziness before he lost his balance. He couldn't space out in the street. What if Melvin found him? He would bring him home. He would torture him, most certainly rape him.

… _shouldn’t have been so resentful and made him sick why I always hurt people I should take care of should stop hurting stupid Marik hurting stupid Ryou stupid me Melvin hurt Ryou I should've kept Ryou safe I should've taken care of him long ago_ …

Ryou blushed deeply. Had Bakura just shown some genuine repentance? Did he regret what he had done to him?

It seemed too good to be true. It was probably just a delirium induced by fever. Bakura had always seen him as a convenient tool. He had only protected him from Melvin because their – _his_ – body was in danger. Nevertheless, Ryou suddenly felt remorse and shame in acknowledging that he had, indeed, hurt Marik out of spite, as Bakura had already told him. Maybe… maybe he had made a big mistake… Maybe he shouldn't have…

Ryou stared at his phone’s screen in confusion. Bakura was silent now, but Ryou couldn't ignore the unpleasant feelings that was growing in his chest, snaking in his mind and making his heart heavier. Perhaps he wasn't just a victim but also a persecutor, and everything that was happening to him now was his sole fault and not because Bakura was a bastard and Marik a shallow and egotistical idiot. Nobody pushed Ryou into Melvin's arms. He had decided to play with fire of his own volition.

As a mean to not dwell too much on his many mistakes, Ryou scrolled through his contacts list, searching for someone else who could help him. He suddenly frowned.

_Hysterical arrogant arsehole._

Hysterical arrogant arsehole?

Who was that?

A friend of Bakura?

As if Bakura had friends, apart from Marik, who could have fit the description, except that ‘Marik <3 <3’ was also on the list so that couldn't be him.

Hysterical arrogant arsehole…

"Don’t tell me…"

Ryou called. After all, he had nothing to lose, not even his dignity. He had offered that to Melvin already.

Cold coiled even more around him.

Someone answered after three or four rings, and a too familiar pissed off voice started shouting.

"Who is calling? How did you find this number?"

Ryou stayed silent, holding his breath. His mind couldn’t process the fact that Bakura had hacked into KaibaCorp's databases and found the personal number of Seto freaking Kaiba. Maybe he was dreaming. Yes, perhaps he had passed out during his runaway or long before it, and, now, everything was just a bizarre and vivid dream induced by his fever.

"Have you kidnapped Mokuba _again_?"

Ryou could have sworn that the vibrant voice of Seto Kaiba was full of hope. Fever, indeed. Perhaps he had even dreamed cumming into Melvin's hand.

"No, I’m just right here, big bro'!" Mokuba chirped somewhere in the background.

"Oh… I guess it’s not my lucky day…"

Ryou pursed his lips. What an arsehole! His own little brother, cute and precious like a small bean despite his grating high-pitched voice…

"I'd pay someone myself… He can't even be properly kidnapped and keeps bothering me when I've so much work to do…" Kaiba muttered behind his teeth before yelling at Ryou again. "Is it Yuugi? Listen, dweeb, I've neither the interest in duelling _you_ nor the patience for your prank call."

A loud thud made Ryou started. Kaiba must have banged his desk with his fist. Great. He made the psychotic young billionaire angry with him, as if it weren't bad enough to have a psychotic young _non_ -billionaire already angry with him.

"So, if you don't hang up immediately and erase my number from your phone, I'll look for you, I'll find you, and I'll kill you, possibly after forcing you to eat all your fucking magician girls cards…"

Ryou gasped in horror.

"I’m not Yuugi! I swear! I’m not Yuugi!"

Seto breathed out in annoyance, and Ryou gulped. He should probably hang up now, but he had an uncomfortable sense of foreboding, the awful certitude that Kaiba could now track him wherever Ryou went. He was riveted right to the spot.

"I… I don’t even know why I have your number…" Ryou managed to blurt out, immediately kicking himself for it.

Oh no, he shouldn’t have said that. It was _s_ uspicious. If Kaiba came to understand that someone else had given his number to Ryou, he could suspect that Bakura had survived. He could also discover that the same Bakura had hacked into Duel Links and taken over the AI based on himself. Finally, he could guess who had stolen the ring and the other millennium items.

"I mean… I suppose you gave it to me during… erm… the Battle City championship… when…"

His voice trailed off. Bugger him, bugger his all life. He was toasted like a crumpet.

"No, _I didn’t_ , Ryou."

The boy blinked twice in shock.

"Did… did you just say Ry-Ryou? How do you even know my name?"

"You’re the only white-haired British I know. I'd be as dense as the mutt to forget your name."

Ryou let out a ridiculous whimper and rubbed his nose with the back of his hand.

"Wait… Are you crying?" Kaiba asked coldly.

"No… I’m just sick."

Of course, he was crying. How could he not have been crying when someone, someone who wasn’t Bakura, Marik or Melvin, was finally using his first name? Not Limey something, or Bakura, or "the minor character who could be writing out of the show because nobody cares about him whatsoever". And it was Kaiba, the so-called _hysterical arrogant arsehole_ , and nobody else, who had used his name! Kaiba knew his name and who he was!

"Okay, stop these disgusting sobs or I hang up," Kaiba lashed out.

"Please, no." Ryou tried not to sniffle. "I… I need your help… Could you… No, would you mind…"

"Lending you money? Do you think I run a charity organisation?" Kaiba scoffed.

Ryou bit his bottom lip. He needed to be more cautious.

"No… Of course not."

"You'd even pay me for wasting my time, Ryou!"

"I–if you want… But I can’t pay you from here… Would you mind sending me a car? With a driver, I mean. A company car…"

"Oh, do you think I run the London Taxi Company, now?"

"N-no… Listen, Kaiba… I… I’ll do anything you want…"

"Anything I want?"

Kaiba snorted, then hummed as if he were considering Ryou’s offer.

" _Anything I want?_ " Kaiba mused.

Oh, Ryou was already regretting his promise almost as much as he was regretting his own existence. However, Seto couldn’t be worse than Melvin, right? Sure, he was egoistic, pompous and unfriendly, but he wouldn’t try to rape or kill him, at least. Or, maybe Seto would be worse. After all, he was rich, no, even more than rich, and insanely rich people tended to have nasty habits and weird sexual fantasies like eating truffle _foie gras_ and caviar on the ass they just spanked. And Kaiba was obsessed with his blue eyes white dragon. A white dragon. White like Ryou's hair. White like his soft skin that Melvin loved biting so much.

Oh, bugger him!

He was doomed to be either dead or a sex-toy or kinda both, which was clearly the most horrible of the three options. There was no way he let Melvin play with his… dead body.

Okay. If Kaiba wanted some dragon play, perhaps he could endure it for his sake.

Yes.

No.

Yes. Kaiba wouldn't kill him.

Cold sweat ran down his spine. He was very afraid there was something almost thrilling in having sex with Seto Kaiba.

What was wrong with him today? Why was he so horny?

"You don’t know how to repair an AI by any chance?" Kaiba asked thoughtfully. "Because Duel Links’ Bakura is acting up from time to time and none of KC tech nerds can solve the problem. Even _me_ , I can't fix the problem. If I weren’t so sure that the real one was dead…"

_Buggery bollocks! What have you done, Bakura? You were supposed to just follow the script!_

"No, I’m sorry, I don’t know how to repair that."

He didn't even know what he wanted anymore. His mind kept torturing him with lewd thoughts. Maybe Kaiba was good with his mouth.

"Big bro’, he’s just a poor limey," Mokuba shouted. "All he can do is making pots of tea and drinking them."

_Okay, you're not my cute cinnamon roll anymore. And I can also kick your ass, imp._

Kaiba snorted.

"Then, he can still do more than _you_ , Mokuba."

"Big bro’!"

"Are you a good babysitter, Ryou?"

Ryou blinked. Okay, he was definitely hallucinating now. Or perhaps he had just stepped into another dimension ruled by perverted Surrealists.

"A good _what_? I mean. Uh. What?"

"For Mokuba."

_No. I was wrong before. I'll undoubtedly slap Mokuba as soon as he opens his potty mouth. Or even kill him. Melvin showed me how to gut a man._

Ryou almost protested, but the wind that suddenly splashed water over him reminded him that anything was better than freezing to death in that street.

"Yes, I'd _love_ to babysit your adorable little brother!"

"No need to exaggerate your enthusiasm," Kaiba said curtly. "I know he’s a pest, to put it politely. You can tie him up and gag him if it helps. I don’t care as long as he stops bothering me."

"Big bro’!"

Tie Mokuba up? Gag him? In short, doing anything he wanted except proper babysitting?

Ryou’s eyes rounded in surprise. Apart from the sickness and the murdering attempt, it was the best night he had since… since… since _long_. Which was incredibly suspicious. Every time something almost good happened to him, fate made sure that something ultra-bad arrived just after, perhaps because Ryou was denied any happiness. The truth was that fate was a bitter bitch who liked to rip his heart out for some obscure reasons.

Therefore, Ryou frowned and, while toying nervously with the ring's string, glanced around, searching for cameras. It couldn't be true, could it? Seto freaking Kaiba couldn't offer to help him in exchange for some sorts of service. But the only thing he spotted was someone with a red umbrella strolling down the street.

"I… Is it the moment when you laugh at me, call me a naive dweeb and hang up while feeling disappointed that you can’t see my desperate tears and my future attempt suicide which should happen in a few minutes if I can find a car in front of which I can throw myself?"

Seto scoffed.

"Well, that was oddly specific, Ryou. Anyway, whom do you think am I? Of course, I can see you. I hacked into the streets cameras while we were talking. What are you even doing here in the middle of the night? You look like a fucking pathetic stray cat, and I’m trying to be tactful. For the records, I’m already regretting it. Being tactful, I mean."

Ryou didn't even need to come up with a lie. Seto just went on just like he didn't really care to have any answer to his question.

"I’ll send you a chopper."

A chopper? For him? As if he was some VIP? Yeah, why not… If Seto Kaiba liked to throw his money around, Ryou was nobody to prevent him from doing so. It was far better than throwing himself in front of a car. If fate quit being a bitch, Ryou would be soon surrounded by the elegant furniture of the Kaiba manor. Even better, with his very own private baby-sitter bedroom. King size bed. Silk sheets. Polished floor. Nothing less.

"A chopper. Okay. As you wish. Wait! It’s going to land in the middle of the street, just like that?"

"I’m Seto Kaiba. I do what I fucking want," he snorted.

Yeah, Ryou could imagine Kaiba’s typical journey. In the morning, Kaiba would wake up with the certitude that he could fuck all the rules because he had money. And he would spend the rest of the day following the aforesaid mantra. The End.

Ryou wished he had Kaiba’s confidence.

Ryou wished he had Kaiba’s money, which could help him to gain confidence.

_Oh, if this nob wants to shag me in the end, I suppose it’s okay as long as he gives me king size bed with silk sheets and a blowjob. If Téa can do it for fame, I guess I can do it for comfort and protection. My life needs improvement. Now. I’m dying here._

_Wait, what's happening here? Are you seriously considering being shagged by a man, Seto Kaiba above all? One of my antagonist?_ Bakura asked suddenly behind the heavy curtain of their shared fever.

_I don’t know, Bakura. I’m tired, cold, about to faint, and all I can think is that his body's probably warm and strong, and his mouth very hot and wet. I’m even ready to grow a tail and scales if he asks for. I would be his very Beautiful European White Dragon._

_Okay, I never thought I’d say that one day, but you really really need to be protected from yourself._

Ryou felt that he should have been offended by that statement. He couldn’t. His temples were throbbing, and Bakura’s chitchat was comforting for once. He was even happy that the ring’s shitty spirit was finally more alert and coherent.

 _Aw, why are you so nice all of the sudden?_ he cooed.

Bakura snapped, but with his drowsy tone, he failed to sound threatening.

_I’m also tired, cold, and about to faint. If I were in control of our body, I would've already puked to your nonsense, and if you’re willing to be shagged, can we do it with Marik, please? With your doe eyes and my deceptive skills, I’m sure we can coax him to cuddle us, at least. Don’t tell me that you prefer mister ice king and his big ego to an Egyptian with a lovely midriff and an ego even as bigger as Kaiba’s._

_Hmm, I’m torn… Kaiba’s midriff seems more than okay in the movie. Have you seen all those muscles?_

_I’m sure it’s fake. Marik’s isn’t. We've proofs._

_Perhaps. But Kaiba is still Kaiba when he's upset. Urg. Everything is spinning again._

Ryou lay his back against the door and snapped his eyes shut. White dots had started to appear in the corner of his vision, and Bakura’s presence weakened again. Their fever seemed to jam their link.

"Are you okay, mister?"

Ryou cracked an eye open, trying to identify what the thing that had just talked to him was. Oh, a young girl, red umbrella, red lips too, perfect manicure and a heavy perfume which added to his nausea and headache.

"Peachy…"

At the back of his mind, Bakura sneered at that. Then, Ryou sensed the spirit tense up and scrutinise the girl carefully. If they hadn’t been sick, Bakura would have switched places with him and driven the girl out.

_Ryou, get away from her. Now!_

For once, Ryou didn’t argue. There was something definitely awry in the way the girl was smiling at him. Something so awry that he gave him a sense of unease. Goosebumps raised on his skin as he was trying to get some distance between them. Then, a shiver ran up and down his spine when a black car came to a smooth halt just in front of him. Ryou caught his own reflection in one of the car windows. And the girl’s one, looming just behind him.

_I hate my life!_

_Me too_ , Bakura echoed just before Ryou was smashed in the head.

 

In a city far, far away, at the top of an elegant glass building, Seto Kaiba scowled in front of his computer screen.

"Shit! I can’t believe it!"

"What’s wrong, big bro’? Did monsters, I mean, huge quotes, realistic and solid holographic monsters just appear in town?" Mokuba asked derisively from the leather couch where he was playing on his 3DS – his disloyalty to KaibaCorp’s entertainment systems was another cause of disagreements.

"No, even worse. Your new babysitter has just been abducted."


	6. A different kettle of shipping, part 2

 

A loud groan reverberated around the room, soon followed by the shallow breaths of someone deep in pain.

Lavender eyes stared vacantly at some cracks that had woven an ugly web over the ceiling.

For a long moment, Marik didn't even blink. He felt as if a whole herd of pharaohs led by Atem had run over him. An excruciating pain was pulsing behind his eyes, his back and shoulders were stiff, his stomach upset, his mouth dry, and a disgusting taste of alcohol was lingering on his tongue.

He was about to sit clumsily on the couch where he was lying when something rolled down his belly and crashed onto the floor. The sound of broken glass startled him. His migraine worsened.

His eyes flickered around until he noticed the remains of a bottle of Italian red wine Bakura had stolen long ago in a delicatessen.

It was empty.

And now… very 'dead'.

Marik let out a deep growl.

Great. Hangover. And for what occasion? He was clueless. Bakura had said they should keep the bottle for something important. But, as far as Marik knew, it wasn’t his birthday, and besides, thank holy Ra for that because he dreaded this day every year. Had he drunk alone, then? No  _ effing _ way. It never happened before. After all, he was a real people person, especially with Steves and soon-to-be-Steves. So long as Melvin didn’t take control and try to murder everyone, of course.

It had happened once last Christmas, during a party that Marik had thrown in the sole purpose of making new friends… and recreating his ultimate army of Steves by encouraging a bunch of drunk young party animals to sign his 100% legal name change contract. A very evil plan for which he had pulled an all-nighter and that even Bakura had thought flawless, as he had given the thumb up and an encouraging smile to Marik instead of barking in laughter and cracking a nasty joke about his foolishness. Needless to say, Marik had been delighted, to the point he had bounced in joy and  _ friendly  _ hugged Bakura. The grumpy demon had finally recognized that he, Marik Sebastian Ishtar III, was a genius among the mere mortals, a true villain with no fear or weaknesses, a pure evil mastermind destined to fight the Pharaoh and his ridicule henchmen with – or without – the help of a children’s card game! It had meant the world for Marik, because, until that day, Bakura had only agreed that Marik had a perfect midriff and was the girliest character of their show – or at least what remained of their show, in other words, not a lot.

Alas, Melvin always felt the need to meddle in Marik’s very evil plans as a way to advance his own very evil plans, which consisted of wiping all living beings off the face of the earth – or Japanamerica, at least… That night, if Bakura hadn’t used the ring’s powers and a baseball bat to knock Marik out, they would have had to bury a lot of corpses.

Well, they eventually had had to bury a lot of corpses, thank Melvin’s and Ryou’s wicked schemes. Which made him think that…

He winced when a piercing ringtone aggravated his headache as if he weren’t already in enough pain.

His smartphone. Hi _ s  _ frigging smartphone. He couldn’t even recognize which Lady Gaga’s song he had set up and, for the first time in his life, he thought her singing bore a deep resemblance to the desperate meowing of a cat skinned alive. He hoped she would shut the eff up before he found the frigging damn thing and crushed it under his feet. After all, he knew he would deeply regret later to have broken his brand new iPhone X on an impulse.

"I need water," Marik mumbled when Lady Gaga finally took the wise decision to let him suffer in silence. "Bakura?"

He cast an eye around the living room. Of course, his white-haired friend was nowhere to be seen. He wasn’t even surprised by Bakura’s desertion, as the demon wasn’t the type to take care of someone suffering from a huge hangover, but it didn’t prevent Marik from feeling a shard of unhappiness nip his heart.

With a sigh, Marik stood up and let out a yelp when a sharp piece of broken glass dug itself into his heel. He hopped in a way that would have made Bakura laugh his ass off, then removed the reddened fragment while trying to maintain his unstable balance on one foot. Of course, he almost fell. Hissing in pain, he glanced at the piece of glass angrily and tossed it on the floor without any further though.

Limping slightly, he dragged himself to the kitchen plunged into thick darkness that seemed to lurk in hunger. He quickly switched on the lights and flinched when the brightness of the bulbs burned his eyes even through his closed eyelids. Still, it was far better than being in the dark. Alone. With his memories devouring him alive.

Marik filled a glass with fresh sparkling water and emptied it immediately. It helped to quench his thirst and wash his mouth from the lingering taste of alcohol, but it did nothing to calm his migraine. Certain that the coldness would ease the throbbing pain, he pressed the half-emptied bottle against his forehead and went back to the living room.

Still no Bakura. How  _ not _ surprising.

Brooding over Bakura’s absence, he went towards the couch with the intention to collect all the shard of glasses. On his way, something sharp-edged and vicious buried itself – again – in the ball of his – not anymore – unharmed foot.

Shrieking and cursing, Marik dropped his bottle, spilling sparkling water onto the floor, and hopped again while holding his bleeding foot.

This time, he fell, hard, on his buttocks, which was, of course, as perfect as precious.

Effing great! This was the exact same piece of broken glass that he had thrown away a few minutes earlier carelessly.

Why that kind of shitty things kept happening to him? He was a true evil mastermind, not a Steve or a minor character, for crying out loud! Now both of his feet were injured. The cuts were stinging, and he felt on the verge of tears as if he were someone pathetic like… well… Ryou?

"Bakura, I need you to patch me up before I lose all my blood!" he screamed. "This frigging bottle of wine doesn’t stop attacking me savagely since I broke it! And since when can I bleed? Where are the frigging 4kids censors when we need them? Why don't they do their effing job anymore? Why can I be drugged or hurt now? Why can Melvin kill people for real and let us deal with their stinking corpses? And why am I still stuck with him when he should be dead? I mean, before finding you I spend months fearing he’d kill everyone around me, and sometimes he did, and I had to move again and again! Are we starring in an effing r-rated horror slash torture porn remake where even Ryou can be an aspiring serial killer? Did I miss the producers’ notice about it? But why can’t I even use the ‘eff’ word or kill the effing Pharaoh or Yugi effing Mutou for once and for all?! How unfair! Do the scenarists prefer Melvin and Ryou to me? How can it be even possible? These two are, like, the worst persons ever while I’m obviously the lovable, charismatic anti-hero that everyone can relate to! I didn’t even have any screen time in the movie! And  _ Duel Links _ , can we talk for a second about  _ Duel Links _ ? How can Melvin be in it and not me! Fluffy, as the mighty and sexy leader of our evil council of two, I command you to answer me! Fluffy!  _ Fluffy _ ? Bakura?"

Marik, still sitting on the floor, pouted childishly and drummed his fingers on his knees, waiting for an answer, sulking over the lack of answers, fuming over the lack of answers… 

Frowning, Marik reflected on the whole situation.

Maybe Bakura had decided to go out without waking him.

Or maybe they had quarrelled – again –, Bakura had left him all alone as the big pestering jerk he was and, then, Marik had drunk until he passed out on the couch.

Maybe Bakura would never come back.

Even worse… Maybe Melvin had taken over when he was asleep and killed Bakura. Or Ryou. Which didn’t make a huge difference in this situation because Bakura needed not only the ring but also his host. A dead Ryou probably meant  _ no  _ Bakura even if Marik were wearing the damn artefact.

Marik’s mouth went dry again but for a different reason that gulping down a full bottle of red wine. Forgetting his bleeding feet, he rushed upstairs and barged into Ryou’s and Bakura’s bedroom, almost failing to notice that the door was nearly unhinged. But he  _ did  _ notice, and his stomach churned.

He felt a lump in his throat as his eyes were flickering around in panic.

Bad smell in the air.

Bed undone on one side.

Wardrobe slightly opened.

No British boy hiding inside.

Not even a spirit of the ring claiming he was trying to reach Narnia when he was obviously lurking, watching him like a creep in his sleep. It happened once, and Marik had had the scare of his life.

Then, Marik’s eyes landed on a plush toy that seemed to have seen better days. A blue eyes white dragon plush toy, soaking in a half-dried puddle of puke.

Marik wrinkled his nose, wondering what the hell had happened.

And, suddenly, he remembered everything all at once.

Bakura’s absence, Ryou’s sickness, his despicable behaviour although Marik had been trying real hard to heal him with the help of a family remedy, his own resentment and frustration because of the aforesaid behaviour and Bakura’s desertion, Melvin’s unusual sympathetic whispers…

He had listened to Melvin comforting words. For once, the psycho had seemed on his side. Even better, he had seemed to understand how Marik had felt while facing Ryou’s ingratitude.

Marik had let his anger grow and grow even more. He had let his evil alter ego take control. He had left Ryou alone with Melvin despite knowing too well that Ryou could have been dead meat next time Marik would awake.

Maybe Ryou was dead meat by now, a rotting corpse in his basement.

Maybe Melvin had stolen the ring and thrown it somewhere where Marik would never find it.

Maybe Marik had lost Bakura for good, which meant he would never have the chance to tell the spirit how significant, important he was to him.

"Melvin, you tricked me!" he cried in sudden desperation.

He was certain that Melvin would ignore him, but the dark voice rose from the back of his mind, snickering.

_ Yes. And it was  _ so _ easy. _

Marik clenched his hands into tight, shaking fists. He couldn’t even swallow the lump in his throat anymore. Hot, burning tears brimmed the edge of his eyes. He tried to hold them back, but failed miserably and choked on his sobs.

_ Aw, are you sad, Marik? _ Melvin asked derisively.

"How… How could you?"

_ Because… I  _ could _. _

Marik rubbed his cheeks and wiped his eyes, quivering. He wanted to be angry, not desperate, but he couldn’t stop crying, and so he hugged himself in an attempt to soothe his pain. He could feel his alter ego’s menacing aura surrounding him as if Melvin were just behind his back, looming over his shoulder and whispering in his ears. The fragile wall separating their minds was about to collapse, again. Marik wasn’t sure he could fight Melvin for control, though. He wasn’t even sure that he  _ wanted _ to do it anymore.

"Bakura is… was my only friend," Marik said in a strangled, trembling voice.

_ And you should ask you why. _

Marik didn’t pay attention to Melvin’s cruel mockery, neither did he to the menacing foggy, black shape that was rising from his feet and swirling around him like a bird ready to swoop on his prey.

Violet eyes so similar to his own stared back at him, and white teeth shone brightly against copper-coloured lips.

Marik stayed still even when his spiky-haired twin straightened up before him and lolled his tongue out, almost licking Marik's tears. Marik was already under the impression of drowning in an abyss of pure darkness, so he couldn’t care less, despite the fact that Melvin was rarely manifesting himself into a – almost – corporeal being. Actually, he wasn't even sure it had happened anywhere else than in his nightmares.

The months without Bakura hadn’t been easy, and Marik didn’t want to go through that again. He didn’t want a miserable life where he would constantly fear that Melvin would kill the people around him. People that he could love and care for, like his family. Bakura had been the only person capable of putting a stop to Melvin's misdeeds. Although slightly afraid of Melvin at first – the psycho had almost sent them to the kingdom yet to come, after all –, Bakura had never ever backed off. Never. And every time Marik was upset, Bakura was able most of the time to soothe him.

How was he supposed to live without his best friend?

_ How? _

He couldn’t.

He didn’t  _ want  _ to live without him.

Death would be better than…

The incorporeal being suddenly interrupted Marik’s trail of thoughts with a growl.

"Alright, alright, mister drama queen! No need for a rope. Don't cut your veins yet. I didn't kill Ryou, nor did I steal the fucking ring."

Marik blinked incredulously, his eyes still stinging and swollen.

"You… didn’t?"

"Have you seen blood or anything else here?" Melvin asked with a shrug. "You know that I like to put on a show."

Marik sniffled and wiped his cheeks while reflecting on what Melvin had just said. Even though Melvin was the kind of killer who liked to create a gorish piece of art with the limbs and entrails of his victims, he was also the kind of maniac who liked to send people in the nightmarish dimension of the shadow realm and then give to their friends a farewell card explaining how much they were suffering because of the same friend’s incompetence. Therefore, Marik didn’t dare to be reassured and glared at Melvin. Knowing him, he could have done even worse to Bakura and Ryou than killing them. Maybe they were severely injured and waiting for someone to put them out of their misery. The thought made Marik gag, and Melvin narrowed his eyes at him, clicking his tongue with contempt.

"I won’t lie to you. The prospect of killing them was very enticing. I even got a boner…"

Marik covered his mouth with his hand, gagging again. Melvin rolled his eyes. The circumstances would have been different, he would have taken great pleasure in reminding Marik that he got a boner every time he was browsing the 'thiefshipping' hashtag on Tumblr, especially when he came across drawings showing him balls deep in Bakura. Melvin hated all those long cold showers.

"But the truth is good toys are hard to find, so I just scared the shit out of tiny Florence. He had already run away like the Limey coward he is by the time I finished showering. I didn’t even have enough time for round two."

Marik listened quietly, mouth agape in horror. When he was finally able to collect his thoughts, he pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath. Being angry meant that Melvin could possess him more efficiently and then go on a rampage in the neighbour, but it was hard not to blow a fuse after having heard such a stupid statement.

" _ So _ , you’re saying that this useless and hopeless Binky Boy is  _ outside  _ in the  _ middle of the night _ while being  _ sick _ and even in  _ agony _ , maybe  _ too weak _ for Bakura to use their body in case of emergency?"

Marik counted every point on his fingers, and his ghostly twin kept nodding at everything with a shit-eating grin that almost split his face in two.

"Okay, I’m speechless!" Marik said, throwing up his arms.

"Great. If my day wasn’t already made, it would be the case by now."

Melvin chuckled in a lighthearted way. It was strange and unusual, almost spooky, but Marik didn’t shiver at all. For the first time in his life, he wasn’t afraid of Melvin. In fact, he could have slapped Melvin, multiple times, all over his stupid face. And maybe he should have to.

"Are you a friggin’ moron, Melvin?!" Marik snarled. "Do you have any idea of how much Ryou's talented to put himself into dangerous situations?!"

Melvin snorted.

"For a matter of fact, yes, I know that far too well. He insulted me by thinking that he could manipulate me. The thought never occurred to him that we could be both to play and that I could outsmart him. I warned him, though. I suppose you could say that he's grown on me since our first encounter because I never warn my toys. He's really cute when he's plotting against Bakura and you."

" _ Cute _ ? Ryou?" Marik asked, nose wrinkling at the thought. "Are you in…  _ love _ ?"

"In love?"

Melvin barked in laughter, and Marik clenched his teeth. He should have been relieved, since he usually screeched at the idea of Melvin doing something 'gay' with  _ his _ body, and yet he couldn't help but shake with anger. He didn’t like when people were making fun of him. It was happening a lot.

"No. I’m saying that I would've  _ loved _ to fuck him again and again, especially while knowing how much Florence would be jealous since… well… you know… You and him, you’re not getting anywhere."

Marik snapped.

"No, I don’t know, Melvin!"

His twin looked at him with a glint of lust in his eyes.

"Oh,  _ really _ , Marik? You  _ don’t _ know? Even with these dreams of yours?"

When Melvin licked his lips suggestively, Marik turned his head away in an attempt to hide his blush.

"I’ve never dreamed of fluffy! It’s just a  _ chick _ who happens to be white-haired."

"A white-haired chick who happens to have a big dick."

Marik’s cheeks burned even more.

"It’s just dreams, Melvin!" he spat. "It doesn't mean anything! Everybody has stupid dreams! I’m sure you have stupid dreams too!"

"Of course. But sometimes  _ your _ stupid dreams are way more entertaining for jerking off," Melvin purred shamelessly. "Like your collection of thiefshipping fanarts and fanfics."

"It’s… It’s not a collection! I… I w-was just curious!"

"And you have all the right to bi-curious."

Melvin laughed at his own joke, and followed Marik, laughing even more, when his less harmful personality went back to the living room, head down, dragging his feet. There, Marik avoided – for once – the sharp pieces of glass and collapsed onto the couch. He closed his eyes, apparently drifting away into sleep, which did not prevent Melvin to look around as if he were searching for something to occupy himself, then to go back and forth between the couch and the kitchen door, or the couch and the hallway. Finally, he planted himself squarely just before Marik, glaring at him, his upper lip curled slightly in disapproval.

"I’m bored. Do something, mister main personality."

"I don’t care. Return to your soul room."

"Best Florence impersonation ever."

Even though Marik felt nothing when Melvin started to poke his face around with his forefinger, he still sat up straight with a snarl. It just made Melvin smirk.

"Hey, now you almost look like a tiny me! Which means you'll soon surrender control to me. I wonder who I'll kill this time."

Marik rubbed his temples.

"Shut your friggin’ mouth! I’m trying to think. And don’t even dare to laugh or say something like ‘You, thinking?’!"

Melvin stood still and silent, for almost two seconds, then shouted the forbidden words and cracked up.

When Melvin slumped into the cushions, still laughing, Marik slid away, leaning against the armrest.

Ignoring Melvin was almost easy when he was just a voice in the back of his mind. It was different now that Melvin was visible, almost physically here. Marik knew that his hands would just get through him if he tried to touch, no, strangle him, but his face, his gestures… Everything was  _ real _ , and Marik felt more self-conscious than ever because Melvin was convinced that he was better than him at everything – not just cold blood murder – and it was hard not to be convinced himself by this. Darting a glance towards his double, Marik got the awful feeling that he was a rough draft, an idea of a villain let unfinished by the scenarists, and that Melvin was the ultimate version of themselves, the scenarists' masterpiece, the true villain who scared the shit out of people while Marik was just good to make people laugh at his expense.

None of his plans was working. Everybody thought that they were ludicrous. Nobody even had the slightest bit of respect for him, apart from his Steves, but it didn't count because they were brainwashed. Even Ryou could manipulate him although he was just a minor character, who basically served as a vessel for Bakura.

Eventually, Melvin stopped laughing. He rested his chin on the palm of his hand, elbow propped on the armrest, surveying Marik with curious eyes. After some long minutes of pointed stare, he sighed.

"You know, it's not because you're bad at being a villain that you're bad at everything."

Vexed, Marik retorted immediately.

"Shut up, Melvin!"

"I'm just saying that you'd stop trying so hard to be a villain and just be yourself."

"But I'm a villain!" Marik snapped.

"No, you're a confused young man who's desperately trying to gain his villain boyfriend's approval."

Marik frowned, even though Melvin’s attempt at being considerate surprised him. In a good way.

"I'm talking about Florence," Melvin added, almost sticking his tongue out mischievously.

"I’m not trying to impress anyone, and in particular not Bakura."

"Well, it's as true as me not trying to get into Ryou’s pants by any means necessary."

Marik was dreading to ask what Melvin meant by that. He finally decided that he didn’t want to hear it from his mouth. 'By any means necessary' was clear enough, and he felt like garbage for having abandoned Ryou into Melvin's 'care', knowing what he knew. That was hardly surprising that the boy had run away after Melvin 'had scared the shit' out of him. Melvin had certainly tried to rape him. Maybe he had even tried to rape him before, which explained why Ryou and he didn't get along anymore, but Bakura had just said to Marik that they had some sort of lover quarrel and that he had to 'step in before things got ugly'. Why did Bakura lie to him?

Because Bakura knew that Marik would have been sick about it and hadn't wanted to disturb him. Thinking that Melvin had used his body, his hands, his lips to assault Ryou made his stomach curl in disgust.

For a moment, Marik had let himself forget whom he was talking to. Now that he was looking into Melvin's hollow eyes, he wondered how he could have made such an unforgivable mistake. Marik had witnessed the terrible things that Melvin was capable of, had even been one of his victims. He should have known better than that.

Melvin wasn't trying to sympathize with him. He was manipulating him, again, as an attempt to loosen Marik's defences. Melvin's only goal had always been to see Marik being engulfed by the overwhelming darkness of his own heart.

Marik squared his shoulders and took a deep breath. He rose from the couch, fists clenched, but Melvin stared through him, vacantly, as if he couldn't care less about Marik's incoming burst of anger.

In fact, he certainly didn't care. He had always thrived on Marik's bad feelings. However, Marik had one advantage contrary to the old days. He knew _ exactly _ what Melvin's needs were, which meant that he could still feel a bit of cathartic anger without giving Melvin the upper hand on him. He was just a matter of self-control and authority, and he had confidence in his will. If Melvin were his personal demon, it was more than time he learned how to lock him inside a cage.

"Go away."

Melvin hummed, then cupped one hand around his ear with a grin.

"Don't mutter under your breath, Binky Boy."

Unfortunately for Melvin, Marik immediately understood what his alter ego was trying to achieve: riling him up enough so he would then be able to take control.

"I haven't muttered. Begone from my sight, Melvin!"

The psycho, still expecting to goad Marik into a fight he couldn't win, just crossed his legs and pursed his lips in a naughty smile.

"Being all over-dramatic again, isn’t it? You'd stop worrying about me and more about tiny Florence."

Marik narrowed his eyes at Melvin who ran nonchalantly his hand through his spiked hair.

"Remember what you said earlier, about his bad luck? The poor thing could have been abducted and sold on the black market as a sex slave by now. I read plenty of fanfics about that."

Melvin chuckled, and Marik's mind briefly went blank. Then, he frantically reached for his smartphone, almost stepping onto the pieces of glass in the process.

His fingers were shaking as he was checking his messages. They were shaking even more when he saw that neither Bakura nor Ryou had tried to get in touch with him. However, he had one missed call from an unknown number.

Melvin looked over Marik's shoulder and scoffed.

"How much do you want to bet that’s Ryou’s kidnappers?" He deadpanned. "Let’s hope they haven’t already cut him into pieces."

Horrified at the possibility that someone could harm Bakura and Ryou, Marik called back and engaged his threatening mode as soon as his call was picked up.

"I, Marik Sebastian Ishtar III, command you to give me my fluffies back before I unleash the unlimited power of my rod on your weak minds, foolish fools!"

"Your… fluffies…?"

It was a deep and rough voice that Marik immediately recognized, to his greatest displeasure. Melvin recognized it too. And he laughed his ass off.

"Kaiba? Hi, Malik Blishtar speaking and just joking," Marik chirped in a sugar-coated voice while glaring at his alter ego who was still cackling at his expense. "What can I do for you? I know nothing about stolen millennium items whatsoever, I swear…"

Melvin stopped giggling and gave Marik a dirty look. Seto, for his part, sighed heavily and muttered something similar to "fucking idiot" and "I don’t know what's compelled me to call you in the first place".

Of course, Marik snapped without even thinking twice about it. He didn't like when Melvin gave him the face of utter disapproval. He didn’t like to be called names, especially by young CEOs who had refused to be part of his council of evil. Marik could have made good use of Seto Kaiba's money and resources. He hadn't talked to him since.

"How dare you? I'm the nicest guy ever, friggin' asshole!"

"The nicest guy, yeah, I can hear this right now… Cut the crap, Marik."

"What?! I'm not the incredible, sexy Marik Ishtar, and even if I were him because I certainly wish I were him, how would you even know that?"

"Shut the fuck up not-Marik-Ishtar-but-equally-retard!"

Melvin grumbled that he didn’t 'want to hear more' and vanished. But Marik didn’t pay him any attention. He felt more and more upset and outraged, to the point he almost hung up on Seto. However, doing so would have been conceding that Seto was better than him, and Seto wasn’t better than him, since he had refused his proposition and ridiculed Marik's well-thought plans.

"Oh, I see. Because Seto freaking Kaiba can say the effing ‘eff’ word without being censored, I should obey him. And Marik Ishtar isn’t retarded! He’s the villain that  _ everyone _ wants as a friend. Unlike you, offensive asshole! 'Retard', really?"

"Sue me."

"You're just… jealous of him!"

"Do you prefer to talk about the stolen millennium items, Ma _ l _ ik  _ Bl _ ishtar?"

Vicious question. Marik cleared his throat and decided to do what he was the best at: lying.

"What stolen millennium items," he asked, fluttering his eyelashes even though Seto couldn't see him. "And what's even a millennium item?"

Seto snorted.

"How cute. It’s the smartest thing you’ve said since the beginning of this painful conversation."

Marik smiled proudly. For once, he agreed with Seto, and if the young CEO were finally ready to recognize his merits, perhaps they could find a common ground, for the best.

"Still, now that I'm thinking about it," Seto began curtly, "I want all the millennium items on my desk first thing tomorrow morning."

Marik almost dropped his over-expensive iPhone in shock.

Although Seto had asked his men to excavate Kul Elna, Marik hadn’t thought that he would give importance to anything else apart from the millennium puzzle. After all, the rod had been lying under a pile of dirt and rocks, waiting for Melvin to take it with him. And if Marik was still ashamed that his evil alter ego had got the idea of retrieving the rod before him, he couldn’t let Seto Kaiba take his most valuable possession.

Marik bit his lips, pondering. He could still lie to Seto and reassert that he didn’t have the millennium items, that it was just an empty threat intended to fool his enemies, but he foreboded that Seto wouldn’t fall for it.

Bakura would have known what to do, but Bakura wasn’t here… Consequently, Marik chose the wisest option: negotiating. Even Seto Kaiba couldn’t beat him at that game.

"Even the rod?"

"Especially the rod."

"But it only works on Steves! It's more like a useless backscratcher than anything."

"So I want the useless backscratcher back. It belongs to a museum, Marik."

"And what if I give you gummy bears instead?"

"No."

"But everyone likes gummy bears!"

"Sugar-coated foods are for children."

Marik pouted. He had to admit that Seto Kaiba wasn’t as dense as his Steves or Odion, and that he could, indeed, beat him at his own game. Marik needed to go all out. And he knew exactly what he had to do next: putting the spotlight on a scapegoat.

"I have neither the eye nor the ring, you know? In fact, I'm certain that Pegasus got them. Maybe he’s even plotting your little brother’s abduction as we're speaki–"

"I can live with that," Seto cut him out. "Now, speaking of abduction…"

"Wait! I really like my millennium backscratcher! What if I invite you to be the very, very special adviser of my council of evil. You'll be like my… left hand. Since Bakura…  _ Ryou _ is already my right hand. I can't demote my fluffy."

"Yeah, I’m sure your  _ fluffy _ would be devastated to lose his precious position," Seto mocked. "But, no, thanks. I'm fed up with all those petty villains who want me in their council of evil. I’m the CEO of Kaiba Corporation, which means that I'm basically Big Brother."

Marik furrowed his brows, puzzled.

"But you don't need to be KC's CEO to be a big brother. Or…"

Marik gasped as a horrifying thought began to make its way through his mind.

"Have you killed Mokuba to be the sole Kaiba’s heir?"

"Not yet."

" _ Not yet? _ " Marik screamed.

"I'll certainly kill him if he keeps acting as if he were a member of the dweebs. But he’s just sleep–… uh–oh…"

Seto paused, and Marik could feel confusion and panic arise from the other side.

"Erm, I don’t think he's dead…"

"You don’t _ think _ he's dead? What the eff, Kaiba?! I know a lot about the voices that urge you to kill your family, and you should  _ never  _ listen to them,  _ never _ !"

Seto snapped.

"You don’t have any right to judge me,  _ not- _ Marik Ishtar! It has been a difficult week, Mokuba acts like a hormone-driven beast because of something weird the doctors called 'puberty' and I’m tired as fuck! Anyway, I’m sure he's just…"

Marik heard steps, then soft snores.

"Yes, I'm affirmative, he's just passed out on the couch, thanks to the sleeping pills. And before you give me a lecture about that like the mutt has just done, I wouldn't have to resort to such desperate measures as drugging him and asking Wheeler to come over to babysit him if your friend hasn't been…"

Marik didn’t bother to let him finish now that the Mokuba’s murder case had been solved. Certain things – specifically Marik's things – were  _ way more _ important than Seto's problems, even though he was a little bit curious about the whole 'Joey Wheeler will come to babysit my teenage brother whom the drugs have presently knocked out'. It sounded more like a pathetic excuse for a hot, steamy sex session with a blonde haired man, and he was beginning to wonder which Kaiba was bothered by his hormones. Maybe not the youngest. But important things first.

"Would you consider making a donation to _ my _ council of evil? I could really use some money to take care of the leaking roof of our house, erm, hideout, and I'm sure you can deduct that from your taxes… somehow."

"Will you stop interrupting me if I bribe you?!" Seto yelled angrily.

"It's not a 'bribe', it's a 'donation'. But, yes, I will."

"Consider yourself a rich man. Now…"

"Yes! Nobody can beat me at negotiating!"

Seto let out a loud sigh.

"Nobody can beat you at being  _ insufferable _ . Now, listen carefully, princess of the Evil Council of Dumbass. Ryou's been abducted."

Marik almost dropped his smartphone in shock. AGAIN.

"What?! But… Kaiba! Why didn’t you say it earlier?"

Seto dared to 'urgh' him.

"Are you implying that it’s my fault?" Marik said, pissed.

"Yes."

Marik was ready to yell again but, as he was reflecting on their conversation, he finally admitted that Seto  _ did  _ try to tell him. He also realized that Seto had even called him with the sole purpose of informing him. Marik immediately deflated and bit his lower lip sheepishly.

"I just got carried away…"

"Whatever. It happened in front of the bus station, so you must want to check that place first. I can't help you more. Your town has video-surveillance only there. With luck, his kidnappers may contact you soon, so even if you don’t find clues…"

Seto’s voice trailed off, and Marik nodded with determination.

"Don't worry, Kaiba. Nobody can read my poker face!"

"Right, you're the epitome of subtlety, Marik."

"Exactly."

"I still want the millennium items tomorrow morning, though."

"Oh no, I’m losing… can’t hear you… bridge…" Marik yelped while faking statics with his mouth.

He hung up, proud of his trick. Alas, his well-thought strategy wouldn't prevent Seto to bite him in the ass someday, especially when he would notice the emptiness of his desk the next morning and the blatant absence of Marik at his own house. Time to move out!

Seto could assure him all he wanted that the millennium items belonged to a museum, Marik would never buy into his lies. For him, it was crystal clear that the young billionaire coveted the objects for himself, and since Seto was ambitious to the extreme, maybe even more than Marik was, who knew what he could do with the millennium rod, or the necklace, or the scale and the key? Marik was still unsure of what sort of powers the last two were infused with, even though he had tried for months to make them do anything, but he was  _ very _ sure that he didn't wish to see Seto Kaiba near them, not after all the inter-dimensional disco cube fiasco.

Even the rod would be too harmful in Seto's hands. For Seto Kaiba, it would be 'easy peasy', as Ryou would say if he were here, to only hire people named Steve. Or, even worse, maybe he wouldn't be limited to Steves of all sorts and shapes, for Marik was certain that 'Steve' wasn't even an ancient Egyptian name. At that time, Priest Seto must have likely commanded to all the poor souls around him, and if it was fun imagining Billionaire Seto using the rod for bending the mighty Pharaoh to his will, Marik Sebastian Ishtar III didn’t bow before anyone except his own reflection. And only because the said reflection was damn gorgeous. He would have considered being gay for his reflection.

_ Well, that's something I'm eager to tell Bakura! At this rate, I'll fuck you before him. _

"Certainly not! Your hair looks stupid!"

_ So you're saying that if I tame my hair, I can tame you? _

"Still no, and stop distracting me, Melvin! I have to save Bakura and Ryou! And also be ready just in case the Pharaoh would come back to our dimension to enslave us. And maybe prevent Seto Kaiba from becoming the dark ruler of this world or something like that. I'm a busy villain, you know?"

_ Okay, but, first, try to avoid… _

"OhmyRadamnyoufrigginbottleofwine!"

…  _ the pieces of glass. _


	7. A different kettle of shipping, part 3

 

If Ryou hadn't known what being in real pain was, he would most certainly have by now.

His temples were throbbing, his ears were ringing, his throat was burning, his eyes were stinging, and, the icing on the shit cake, his nape was also hurting. And maybe bleeding. No, definitely bleeding. After all, someone had tried to crack his head open with an umbrella.

Had Ryou wanted to, he could have designed a big, coloured chart about medical conditions, like the ones they did for toddlers learning how to talk.

And his nose, his nose! Ryou had never realized before that a blocked-up nose could be so annoying! He couldn't breathe properly, which only aggravated his dizziness. He still felt lightheaded, and the world was slightly spinning around him every time he put some efforts to raise or turn his head.

When he was a little boy, his mother would tuck him in a warm bed and then bring him hot-steamy chicken soup. Ryou couldn't remember the last time he had been sick after his mother had passed away, which was a relief because he had been living alone for so long that nobody would have helped him to get in bed and cooked him chicken soup – neither the spirit and Marik counted as 'people who could have taken care of him' until… Well…

Ryou frowned. He wasn't sure of anything anymore.

Everything was so confusing since Bakura had shown pangs of guilt, which, of course, could have only been caused by Ryou's cold. Part of Ryou was hoping that the spirit did have a change of heart, but another part was afraid that everything would go back to normal as soon as they would recover from the sickness. Ryou was dreading that moment because when Bakura wasn't so anal about everybody and everything, he was surprisingly… nice and funny – albeit in his own grumpy, sarcastic way. And there was something enticing to think they could use their respective skills to seduce Marik – or at least coax him to cuddle them, as Bakura had stated.

Ryou frowned again.

Did he really just think  _ that _ ? Yes, he did. And he didn't even know if he should feel ashamed of himself or not. What did he know, though, was that fever was a bitch for giving him those weird fantasies. Plus, he wasn't really gay, right? Or at least he didn't think that he was, no matter how much Marik's body seemed to be made for sex. No matter how he reacted when Melvin had touched him. And Kaiba? Why did Kaiba feel the need to wear leather pants so tight around his fine, muscled ass and, moreover, how did he find the time to work out so much? It wasn't even human!

Ryou sucked on his lower lips, revelling in the thought of Kaiba long, long legs. Ryou could certainly find them a better use than walking their owner here and there. Yes, Kaiba's legs would look far more better wrapped around Ryou's waist. At least, if he figured out how to put Kaiba out of his pants… They looked like a second skin.

Ryou would certainly need help. Marik's help, in fact. Marik would know how to take off Kaiba's leather pants after stealing the Pharaoh's, and it would be easy to trick him if Ryou convinced him that undressing Kaiba was vital to achieve his goals and not gay at all.

Ryou grinned. He was really  _ too _ good at deceiving and manipulating people, certainly even better than Bakura. One word, and he would have Marik wrapped around his finger, despite everything that had happened between them. Bakura would have his cuddling session sooner than he thought. Kaiba would be a nice addition. While they would be at it, they could even check which one of them had the biggest  _ ego _ – and since everything about Kaiba was incredible, from the BEWD jet to his abs, Ryou bet Kaiba's ego would match the rest of his awesome 'personality'.

A wave of red flushed Ryou's cheeks, and he suddenly shook his head, ashamed of his own lust.

Seriously, he needed to stop daydreaming like,  _ NOW _ , because, Marik and Seto Kaiba, for real…?! As if he didn't have enough problems already. Plus, if he were indeed gay, falling in love with those self(absorbed arseholes would be the worst thing to do. Also, Kaiba might have banged Atem, or Joey, or one of his Blue Eyes White Dragon, or the three of them – was he strong enough to handle them the same time? – and Ryou didn't know how he would feel about that – especially if a real dragon was involved because he didn't want to learn what size a dragon's dick was, although the answer should be 'deadly big'.

_ Bugger! Focus on the present situation, you twit! _

In the sole purpose of not thinking about anyone's dick anymore, Ryou scrutinized the room where he had been locked up.

After a couple of minutes, he decided that he felt better with his eyes closed. He could barely see his surroundings with his teary eyes anyway, and besides, the light bulb hanging just above him had been thrusting sharp needles into his poor globes since he had regained consciousness. Even the light filtering through his eyelids was making him cry. He couldn't stand that throbbing pain anymore and wished for someone, anyone, to find him soon. He would even go to the extent of French-kiss Melvin if he came here to murder his abductors. Though, if Ryou were lucky for once, the maniac would be disgusted by Ryou's sickness. Or maybe Melvin would also have had a change of heart and realized that trying to force Ryou into sex wasn't the best way to seduce him, which meant they could  _ eventually _ …

Bloody hell!

Something was definitely wrong with his brain, to the point he would have given anything to be distracted from his thoughts. At least, he still had the ring, which meant that his kidnappers didn't know what sort of dark forces it contained. The gold was warm against his skin, but he was still feeling feverish, therefore it could be a simple illusion of his senses.

"Bagura?"

He paused, sniffling and coughing as quietly as he could. He didn't want to alert his kidnappers, although he had heard nothing suspicious in –  _ and outside of –  _ the room.

"Bagura?" he whispered, forgetting again that he didn't need to speak out loud.

Something gloomy awoke at the back of their shared-mental space. Growls, curses and more growls rumbled under Ryou's skull. He could almost picture the evil spirit glaring at him with red eyes, his white hair messier than ever around his pale face.

_ For Zorc's bloody sake, I'm the embodiment of darkness. I-we shouldn't even be sick. Even though I'd hoped that you'd catch a cold… _

A short laugh followed the vicious statement.

So much for their bonding moment under the rain. Everything had definitely got back to normal.

Ryou bit his lips.

He tried to pretend that he wasn't hurt and didn't feel as if his heart had been ripped out of his chest.

He tried to pretend he didn't want to retort for the sole purpose of hurting Bakura as much as he was now.

Of course, it didn't work at all, and he  _ did _ retort.

_ So, you're admitting that you've acted like a total arsehole with me? _

_ No, I'm just saying that I'd hoped that… Oh… _

_ Yes, Bakura, 'oh', like, 'oh my goodness, I also acted like a total arsehole just now with my poor limey host' _ .

Bakura fell silent, certainly more upset about Ryou's sarcasm than sorry about his own mistakes. Ryou, on his side, sulked a little over his own naivety. As if Bakura and he would be friends, one day… As if Bakura would really realize what Ryou had gone through during all those years… Ryou should have listened to the other little voice inside his head instead of letting himself be full of hopes. Bakura had just been under the influence of his… their fever, nothing more.

_ You know _ , Bakura finally began,  _ if you, wanker, hadn't drugged Marik and helped Melvin store corpses into the basement… _

Ryou furrowed his brows in anger and clenched his fists.

_ Don't even get me started, Bakura. You and Marik, you keep stealing my life and… _

_ And so you sided with a notorious murderer for… what, exactly? What did you even expect to achieve, Ryou? Did you really hope that everything would be okay like in a bloody Deathshipping fanfiction? _

Ryou was filled with shame, knowing perfectly well that Bakura was right. He had fucked everything up, and Melvin had taken advantage of his loneliness. Perhaps it was even his plan from the beginning.

_ I knew it could backfire, _ he finally admitted.  _ But… I had no one to turn to. I still have no one… _

_ You have  _ me, Bakura stated as if it was obvious when they both knew it wasn't.

_ No,  _ Marik _ has you, I have  _ no one _ , not even my so-called friends. You've never been there for me and you'll never be there except if my body is in danger, like with Melvin. And, you know, you might've been right, I should've let Melvin bang me, because now I would be in a warm bed and not here. _

Bakura clicked his tongue.

_ No, it was stupid on my part to even suggest it. Melvin would've ripped your limbs apart as soon as he would've had his way with you. I ought to have intervened sooner and not made fun of the whole situation. _

Ryou felt his eyes burning even more, and this time it wasn't because of the light or the fever. They filled with tears that quickly flowed down his cheeks.

He didn't know what to make of Bakura's unexpected statement. The spirit didn't seem under the influence of the fever anymore, though Ryou didn't dare to believe what he had just said. He was used to being disappointed, and it was too good to be true. Like that day when he had been so thrilled to receive a gift from a mysterious fan. As if he had any fans! He should have known better than that.

Ryou sniffled and eventually fought his tears back before he made a fool of himself, before Bakura laughed at him and shattered his heart into tiny pieces.

_ Ryou… _

_ Say nothing. _

_ But… _

_ Please? _

_ But I mean it. I'm sorry. For everything. _

Ryou broke down. He couldn't hold back his tears anymore. He knew this time that it wasn't empty words. He could  _ feel _ it, deep in his heart.

Apart from Ryou's sobs, they stayed quiet for some painful minutes, their mutual embarrassment blatant.

Ryou didn't know how to answer. He would have loved to withdraw to his soul room in place of choking on his tears and fighting for breath.

Bakura, for his part, was uncomfortable, maybe a little panicked even, without a doubt because he was shocked by his own confession and didn't know how to soothe his host either.

At this point, Ryou hoped that Marik would suddenly appear magically and say or do something silly. Then, Bakura would take over Ryou, and banters would fill the silence, banters that would have helped to relieve the awkwardness between them.

_ Ryou,  _ Bakura asked in an unusual gentle tone.  _ Can you look around? I want to see if there is anything you could use for cutting these ropes. _

With efforts, Ryou finally overcame his overwhelming wave of emotions. He gulped the lump in his throat, sniffed loudly and raised his head, trying to pry his eyes open without flinching because of the light. Then, he blinked in an attempt to get rid of his tears.

As he vision was getting clearer, he tensed, Bakura's last words echoing in his mind.

"Robes?"

Ryou suppressed a cough, then tried to pull himself up. When his limbs didn't move, he came to realize that he was tightly tied to a chair with climbing ropes.

"No, don'd dell me we're now in a bloody fifdy shade of grey mobie!"

_ Well, would it be so bad if Marik were our mister Grey? _

_ Kaiba. Kaiba should be mister Grey. He's so rich! _

_ You  _ do _ have a crush on mister Blue Eyes White Dragon's money, you little greedy slut. _

_ Of course I have! Can you picture all the cream puffs I could buy with  _ only _ one of his credit cards? _

Bakura chuckled, and Ryou would have done the same if his throat hadn't been in pain. They needed the crazy jokes because their situation wasn't so good…

_ You know, _ Bakura added, _ Marik would also have been rich if Ishizu and Odion hadn't forced him to give all his money to charity. _

And with that, they went straight back into serious mode.

Marik had complicated feelings about his family, feelings that Bakura was aware of, feelings that Ryou could understand now because of his own complicated relationship with his father. Why Ryou hadn't realized that before… Well, no, he knew why. It was hard to feel compassion for someone you hate.

_ Turn your head to the right. There's something I want to see. _

Ryou was about to obey when the weirdness of the situation struck him.

_ Bakura, why haven't you taken control? You would be free in a snap. _

The spirit presence became stronger, and Ryou felt him probe cautiously around their shared mental space as if he weren't sure how to proceed anymore.

_ Couldn't even if I wanted to,  _ Bakura finally stated matter-of-factly _. Your cold, it still scrambles our link. Things are getting better but there is nothing I can do apart watching through your eyes. _

Ryou almost told him to stop messing with him but bit back his comment when he remembered how Bakura had been powerless just before their abduction.

_ You mean that I'm  _ alone _? _

Bakura's silence was eloquent, and Ryou was seized by a fit of panic.

How ironic. Hours ago, he would have revelled in the fact of being free of the spirit or having him incapable of taking control of his body. Now, he just wanted to curl into a tight ball and cry until someone came to save him. Melvin had been his muscles, and Bakura too when Melvin had assaulted him. If Ryou couldn't handle Melvin, how he could even consider escaping his abductors, moreover in this state?

_ You need to pull yourself together, _ Bakura suddenly snarled.

"I can't…"

_ Of course, you fucking can! _ Bakura yelled. _ Don't even  _ dare _ to think otherwise! You're my fucking host, for Ra's sake! Perhaps you have never been a hero or a lead character, but you're fucking strongly minded for wielding the ring as if it was nothing more than a piece of ancient jewellery or a gaydar. You're stronger than all of those fucking brainless idiots you still call your friends! Even Yugi would be in a bloody ashtray by now if he had had to wear it, wear me! So stop thinking you're a weakling because you're not! _

Ryou swallowed hard and fought back with resolve the waves of panic that were threatening to overwhelm him. Maybe Bakura had just said all those things in a desperate attempt to force Ryou to get a grip on himself, but even if it were just a lie, it was still nice to feel important.

Lifting his chin, Ryou squinted his eyes and peered around. His vision was less blurry even though his eyes were still stinging. Turning his head, he saw his reflection in a small mirror hanging on the wall and paused a moment to take in his appearance.

Paler than ever, hair as messy as the spirit, tearful and red-rimmed eyes… It was obvious that he was sick.

Then, something else caught his attention.

Several drawings from different artists had been pinned on the wall, close to the mirror.

Ryou stared at each one of them, at first puzzled, and then flushed in unease when he came to realise that they represented him and Marik.

The drawings by themselves weren't bad executed, at least as far as he could tell since he wasn't an expert on those things and also still have difficulties to see details clearly. Some of the drawings had a strong manga aesthetic, others almost looked like photos, both styles so well-executed that the level of dedication of their fans was obvious. But what made Ryou more and more self-conscious and nervous was the fact that Marik and him were nude in most of the pictures, doing all sorts of hot, smutty, embarrassing things.

Despite his new – and weird – fantasies, Ryou had never asked to see Marik buried balls deep in his ass, and certainly hadn't asked to be drawn deep throating the young Egyptian – who was, of course, well hung. Judging by some pictures, Marik's erect penis would have never fit entirely in his mouth in real life, at least not without choking him to death or breaking his jaws. Ryou couldn't even figure out how much prep his hole would need to be able to take it. Not that he wanted to know…

In another piece of 'art', Ryou, hands tied behind his back, licked the semen which was dripping from his swollen lips, presumably after Marik had come all over his face since he was still gripping his dick, one of his fingers pressed onto his tip. There was also that one where Ryou rode Marik while being tied again, the ropes biting his sensitive skin to the point of having droplets of blood were falling from him onto the sheets. His face was flushed, sweaty, and he seemed to be about to topple to Marik's chest in exhaustion.

Ryou wrinkled his nose. He was becoming more and more disturbed by the lewd pictures and the fact that certain people assumed he would act submissive during sex. It didn't help that Marik was represented as an abusive arsehole. Of course, the Egyptian was arrogant and bossy. However Ryou didn't believe that Marik would ram his dick into him so violently, his nails clawing at Ryou's hips and tracing red crescent all over them. He couldn't imagine Marik's face buried between his ass cheeks, licking around and inside his hole, his tongue fucking Ryou shamelessly. Marik would cringe at such an unhygienic thing, even yell at the idea of him doing a rim job to anyone. 'Ryou, are you mad? It's where poops come out!'.

Even worse than that, Ryou was almost always tied and defenseless in those drawings and, judging by the way he was wincing, he doubted he had given his consent in any of these scenarios.

Ryou broke out in a sweat and felt his whole body grow weak.

It wasn't lovemaking. It wasn't how Marik would behave in bed. Ryou was pretty sure that Marik would be the sort of person to whisper sweet nothing into his lover's ear, especially if it were Bakura. The two of them were always arguing as a part of their everyday banter, but Bakura often talked about being cuddled, and Marik always cried over everything and nothing. The day they would eventually date, they would both be trying hard to pretend they didn't want to do soppy romantic things together while both craving equally for it.

As Ryou let his tired eyes wander, he noticed something who made his skin crawl. Marik was quite dishevelled in all the drawings, but not like Marik should have been.

He realized with a gasp that the blonde man with tanned skin and toned muscles who was fucking him so violently wasn't Marik but Melvin.

"Fuck, Deathshipping…"

A wave of nausea hit him.

Ryou did his best not to think about what had happened earlier in his bedroom  – the burning humiliation caused by his own weakness, by his need to be loved by anyone. He did his best not to think about what had happened days before  – t he way Melvin had assaulted him for the first time.

If Ryou started to think about all that again, he would definitely throw up. He swallowed hard and forced his eyes shut, refusing to see more of those horrendous pictures that acted as a painful reminder of the rape attempt and what Ryou let happen. Melvin's touch, how it had felt too damn good, how he had begged for more.

Ryou was suddenly overwhelmed by Bakura's strong presence. He wished for the first time that he could touch and hug the spirit of the ring for comfort, because he needed someone to cling to. However, Bakura was tense and nervous like a caged lion at a zoo dreaming of the day he would escape, so he just made Ryou more worried.

_ No, it's not Deathshipping,  _ Bakura stated, almost whispering with fear.

Ryou frowned, troubled by the spirit's behaviour. Then, taking the risk to look again, he finally noticed the tiny bat wings rising from his head in every picture.

Oh…

_ We need to get the fuck out of here! _

Ryou nodded, but his heart skipped a beat and his eyes widened as the door was flung open.

 

"You should let me take care of everything. Knowing you, it's just a matter of time before you get hurt."

Marik clicked his tongue and glared at Melvin. He then readjusted his backpack on his shoulder and went back to what he had been doing just before his alter ego gave him his two pieces of advice. Ignoring him while searching for clues to find Ryou's whereabouts.

Alas, he had to admit that he wasn't successful at either task. He had stridden along and across the street, even probed some passerby's minds who happened to be named Steve, all of that for nothing. As for Melvin, he was too good at getting on Marik's nerves, and it was frigging hard for Marik not to explode with rage and frustration, something he needed to avoid at any prices.

Melvin, casually leaning against a wall, arms crossed over his chest, glared at Marik as the young man surveyed once again the wet sidewalk. The pavement was glinting slightly in the pale glow of the sparse streetlights, and the only notable things were trash and soak papers floating in the flooded gutter. Marik had almost collected them some minutes before to inspect them closely.  _ Almost _ . Of course, he had shrunk back…

"Are you searching for your brain, Binky Boy? Because I think you must have lost it long ago in Egypt."

Without even raising his head, Marik gave him the middle finger. Alas, it wasn't enough to stop Melvin.

"Let's face it. You won't find Ryou because you've always sucked at everything, apart from maintaining our perfect shape, of which I'm grateful. I know it. You also know it. Why do you think 4kids begged  _ me _ to work for them? Without Florence watching your back, you're nothing. You're weak, not even able to swear properly, or to rule your ridiculous council of doom, or to kill the Pharaoh, or to unlock the full powers of the millennium rod. And I'm not even talking about the other items, you fucking pathetic weakling. Seriously, do you even know what the other items are supposed to do, Marik? You've brought them with you, but…"

Marik couldn't fight the urge to retort this time. Being verbally abused by his darker side wasn't a part of his plans. True, maybe he was not anymore the villain he had once been. However, he wasn't a 'weakling' at all.

"FYI, I've brought them with me because I don't want Kaiba to steal them when no one is at home! And knowing him as I know him, his whole team is already there, ransacking our house."

Melvin scowled and unfolded his arms, thrusting his clenched fists in his cargo pants pockets. Seeing an opportunity to win an argument for once, Marik pointed a victorious finger at Melvin. He couldn't contain a laugh.

"Ahah! The thought didn't even cross your mind, right? Who's stupid, now, tell me!"

Melvin let out a sigh before giving him a pointed look. The eyes of Anubis on his forehead was glowing ominously in the dimly lit street.

"Marik, you're the one who told Kaiba about the items," Melvin started in a low, threatening growl. "Which means you wouldn't have had to bring them with you if you had known how to keep your fucking mouth shut!"

As Marik looked elsewhere, pretending he hadn't heard anything despite his flushed cheeks, Melvin slowly smirked, brushing his thumb against his lower lip.

"Still, I'm  _ almost _ impressed that you have the wit to take the items and Bakura's knives with you. We should celebrate your first smart decision in years because it's a fucking miracle!"

A loud bark escaped Melvin's mouth, and he soon doubled up in gales of laughter. Feeling his cheeks burning even more, Marik averted Melvin's mocking eyes once more, muttering under his breath how much he would have loved that Melvin had stayed dead after the duel against the Pharaoh.

The laugh immediately came to an end.

Marik closed his eyes and tightened his grip on the millennium rod as tendrils of darkness surrounded him, snaking down his arms, sending shivers of fear up his spine.

Marik didn't want to look. It was far easier to ignore the menacing aura of his evil alter ego without seeing him. Thus, he could pretend that everything was perfectly normal, that  _ he _ was  _ normal _ . The voice he was always hearing was just a product of his vivid imagination and nothing more. He shouldn't fear the voice and not even budge a muscle, even less getting mad at  _ it _ , every time  _ it _ snarked about him. _ It _ would likely disappear one day, as his nightmares would too. After all, he didn't need  _ its _ hugs anymore.

"So naive,"  _ it _ whispered, "thinking you can make me go away by dehumanizing me…"

Marik closed his other hand around the millennium rod's handle, focusing on the cold feeling of gold against his palms. The rod had always been his, not  _ its _ . Had he really wanted this, Marik could have done more than brainwashing Steves, more than…

"More than  _ what _ ?" it chortled. "As chucklenuts said one day, you're not evil, Marik, just an angry child. You think Florence respects you as a villain? He's only interested in your cock."

As soon as Marik made a face, _ it _ lashed out at him.

"Will you fucking  _ STOP _ to act as if you weren't interested! We both know that's not true!"

The voice suddenly cooed in a soft murmur.

"Want a good piece of advice from your old childhood friend?"

" _ Imaginary _ friend."

Marik deeply regretted his words as soon as they escaped his lips, though Melvin didn't get mad this time. After all, he had just won their power play.

"I'm not just a voice or a figment of your imagination."

Marik opened his eyes, a thrill of nervousness rushing through his body.

Melvin was facing him, his features barely visible behind the heavy mist. His purple eyes were glowing inside the pitch-black pits of his sockets, and the eye of Anubis on his forehead was burning like thousand suns. When Melvin's hands reached for Marik's face, the young Egyptian fought the growing urge to flinch. Showing any signs of weakness would be the end of him. Still, he could feel the cold touch of Melvin's fingers on his cheeks, the subtle pain when the madman's nails raked his skin. While Marik was perfectly aware that it was just an illusion, he couldn't prevent his heart to skip a bit and then race with fear.

"You  _ will never _ get rid of me."

"We'll see," Marik answered boldly despite the cold sweat pouring off his back.

White teeth shone when Melvin's grin spread.

"No, we won't. You're going to cry for my help soon. Believe me. And after that, I'm going to snatch tiny Florence from you. My prize for saving your sorry ass."

Marik gritted his teeth, but he couldn't swallow his pride, no matter the risks.

"My sorry ass says 'eff you', and tiny Florence has a name, dickhead! Do you even know how much you've hurt him?"

Melvin narrowed his eyes until they became two gleaming purple lines.

"And you? Do  _ you _ know?"

Marik gulped.

He had made a mistake. A lot of mistakes. He already acknowledged that and didn't need the free reminder.

"If it weren't for Florence and you pushing him over the edge, Ryou would've  _ never _ sought my help, so basically everything is your fault."

Marik felt his fingers curling and uncurling around the rod. Yet, he wasn't sure it was still him who was fully in command of his body

"It's kinda sad, though," Melvin added, eyes wide open, pupils as tiny as pinheads. "Ryou ditched me as soon as he got what he wanted from me. Does that ring any bells, Marik?"

"I…"

"You ditched me too."

Marik's mind went blank as the street's shadows were growing darker and darker. Darker like the dusty tombs of his past. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't think. Or, at least, the only thing he could think was that he needed Bakura more than ever. Bakura would have known how to chase away the shadows.

"You told me that I couldn't rule anything because I was just an eyeball," Melvin added, cupping Marik's face and rubbing his cheeks almost affectionately. "Then, you discarded me like a card. Right into the GY."

Melvin bumped Marik's forehead with his and closed his eyes.

"I'll keep coming back, Marik. You can bury me all you want, I'll  _ always _ keep coming back."

Marik felt the subtle touch of lips against his. He flinched, but he was so tightly tangled in the darkness that he could barely move.

"I tried to be your ally here, to be your friend."

Melvin let out a deep sigh.

"If you've just listened… I would've saved them and put some efforts into our partnership. Bakura, Ryou, you and I, we could've lived happily ever after. You would've had all the hugs you ever wanted."

"You're… lying… trying to manipulate me…"

Marik's body was growing numb and cold. He couldn't feel the millennium rod anymore, nor the movement of his own fingers. Apart from Melvin's warm breath over his face and the fast beats of his racing heart, everything else seemed unreal.

"No, Marik. As I said, I don't hate Ryou even though he has disappointed me. And if you think carefully about everything I've said since you woke up, you'll see I really tried to help you. But now I'm tired of your bratty attitude, I'm tired of you. It's time for me to become the main character of this story. Know that everything that will happen to Ryou and Bakura from now on is your fault…  _ Adieu _ ."

"Melvin, wait…!"

Marik reached out, trying to cling to his alter ego's shoulders.

His hands seized nothing, at least nothing else than the dried and hot air brushing against his palms.

A wave of panic hit him. Everything was dark, suffocating. Dust stung his nose, and Marik knew.

He knew he had been sent into his worst nightmares.

He knew he was back to the tombs of his childhood.


End file.
